Library  of  the 


Unive^ 

Endo 


Soldier  Rigdale 


29806 


H>1 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII 

„     ,._^       ^^»™         00022085217 

L^*f^  <-N  (?2$fca?1  ^^ c ^^>  *4* 

This  BOOK  may  be  kept  out  TWO  WEEKS 
ONLY,  and  is  subject  to  a  fine  of  FIVE 
CENTS  a  day  thereafter.   It  was  taken  out  on 

'^ff     the  day  indicated  below: 


€^3 


«*»*6k* 


Lib.  lOM-Fe  '38 


Co^> 


£  %!J^  ^fe^S^S^ 


:*»^CB'i»-vJ^i*'^ 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/soldierrigdalehoOOdixb 


SOLDIER    RIGDALE 


/ 


.- 


l"5QS?*co 


*\ 


<<  As  if  he  knew 


the  place  and  held  he  had  the  right  to  come 
there." 


Soldier  Rigdale 


•  HOW  HE  SAILED  IN  THE  « MAYFLOWER  "- 

•  AND    HOW   HE    SERVED    MILES   STAND  IS  H  - 


BY 


Beulah  Marie  Dix 

AUTHOR    OF    "HUGH    GWYETH  :    A    ROUNDHEAD    CAVALIER 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS   BY  REGINALD    B.    BIRCH 


Kefo  If 0tft 
THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

LONDON:   MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Ltd. 
1899 

All  rights  reserved 


Copyright,    1899, 
By   THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY. 


2 


Hl>^ 


Norwood  Press 

J.  S.   Cushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith 

Norwood,  Mass.,   U.S.A. 


Contents 


CHAPTER   I 
Playing  with  Powder    .... 

CHAPTER   II 
The  Name  of  Miles     .... 

CHAPTER   III 
Thievish  Harbor  .... 

CHAPTER   IV 

Hewers  of  Wood  and  Drawers  of  Water 

CHAPTER   V 
News  from  the  Shore  .... 

CHAPTER   VI 
The  Going  Landward  .... 

CHAPTER   VII 

The  Man  of  the  Family         .  .  . 

CHAPTER   VIII 

In  the  Time  of  the  Sickness 

CHAPTER   IX 

Master  Hopkins's  Guest 

CHAPTER   X 

The  Lords  of  the  Soil  .  .  . 

v 


Page 

I 


»7 


3° 


45 


61 


74 


95 


108 


125 


VI 


Contents 


CHAPTER   XI 

When  the  Good  Ship  Sailed  . 

CHAPTER   XII 

The  Sowing  of  the  Fields 

CHAPTER   XIII 
The  Two  Edwards      .... 

CHAPTER   XIV 
A  Mighty  Resolution  .  . 

CHAPTER  XV 
In  the  Southward  Country     . 

CHAPTER  XVI 
The  House  of  Bondage 

CHAPTER   XVII 
How  they  kept  the  Sabbath  . 

CHAPTER   XVIII 
At  Nauset  Village        .... 

CHAPTER   XIX 
Fallen  among  Friends  .... 

CHAPTER  XX 
A  Son  of  Perdition       .... 

CHAPTER   XXI 
Between  Man  and  Man 

CHAPTER   XXII 
The  Bearer  of  Tidings 

CHAPTER    XXIII 

The  Captain's  Soldier 


List  of  Illustrations 

"As  if  he  knew  the  place,  and  held  he  had  the  right  to  come 

there  "  (p.  1 1 1 ) Frontispiece 

Opposite  Page 
♦  With  his  arm  up  to  shut  out  the  glare  of  the  lanterns "     .        14 


'Dolly  plaited  a  fold  of  her  apron  between  her  fingers  " 

' '  Do  you  like  to  do  it,  Captain  Standish  ? '  " 

'  Saw  the  two  young  men  close  in  combat "     . 

' '  Oh,  Miles,  'tis  the  savages  come  for  us  ! '  " 

'  Miles  made  out  the  figures  of  the  men  in  the  shallop ' ' 

'The  breath  came  gripingly  in  his  throat "       . 


66 

102 
184 
214 
254 
308 


SOLDIER    RIGDALE 

CHAPTER   I 

PLAYING    WITH    POWDER 

WITH  the  approach  of  sunset,  the  wind 
that  all  day  had  ruffled  the  waves  to 
white  edges  died  down,  till  there  was 
left  on  the  water  only  a  long,  heaving  motion, 
that  rudely  swayed  the  old  ship  Mayflower.  One 
moment  from  her  broad  deck  could  be  seen  the 
steel-like  gleam  of  the  fresh-water  pond  on  the 
distant  beach ;  the  next  moment,  as  the  ship  rolled 
between  the  waves,  the  shore  presented  nothing  but 
solid  sand  dunes  and  shrubby  pine  trees.  But 
always  overhead  the  sky,  athwart  which  the  yards, 
bulging  with  the  furled  sails,  were  raking,  remained 
the  same,  —  a  level  reach  of  thick  gray  that,  as  twi- 
light drew  on,  seemed  to  brood  closer  over  earth 
and  ocean. 

How  those  yards  seesawed  up  and  down  with 
the  rolling  of  the  ship,  and  the  mastheads,  they 
dipped  too,  quite  as  if  they  might  pitch  down 
upon  a  body !      Miles  Rigdale,  standing  with  legs 


1  Soldier  Rigdale 

craftily  planted  and  head  thrown  well  back,  stared 
and  stared  at  their  measured  movement  till,  dizzy 
with  the  feeling  that  the  great  spars  were  tottering 
loose,  he  was  glad  to  straighten  his  aching  neck 
once  more. 

"  Did  you  see  a  goose,  all  roasted,  flying  for  your 
mouth  ?  "  Francis  Billington  called  from  the  waist 
of  the  ship,  where  he  perched  jauntily  upon  the 
bulwark. 

Sauntering  from  his  place  near  the  companion 
way,  Miles  halted  beside  the  speaker;  not  that  he 
had  a  great  liking  for  Francis  Billington,  but  he 
was  a  sociable  lad,  who  must  talk  to  some  one,  and, 
as  the  bleak  air  had  driven  the  women  and  children 
into  the  great  cabin,  while  the  men  were  absent,  — 
the  leaders  conferring  in  the  roundhouse  and  the 
lesser  men  seeking  firewood  on  shore,  —  he  could 
for  the  moment  find  no  comrade  save  young  Bil- 
lington. 

The  latter  was  an  unprepossessing  lad,  stunted 
and  small  for  his  fourteen  years,  with  elfish  eyes 
which  he  now  turned  sharply  on  Miles.  "  I  take 
it,  Jack  Cooke  is  ill,  and  Giles  Hopkins  has  packed 
you  about  your  business,  that  you've  come  to  spend 
the  time  with  me,"  he  suggested  disagreeably. 

"  I  take  it,  maybe  you've  spoke  the  truth,"  Miles 
answered  unruffled,  as  he  propped  his  chin  on  his 
fists  and  braced  his  elbows  against  the  bulwark. 


Playing  with  Powder  3 

Gazing  thus  northward,  he  could  see  all  about 
him  green  hills,  wooded  to  the  water's  edge,  now 
higher,  now  lower,  as  the  ship  mounted  upon  the 
waves,  and  the  strip  of  sand  beach,  off  which  rode 
the  bobbing  longboat.  "  I  wish  my  father  had 
taken  me  with  him  when  they  went  to  fetch  the 
wood,"  Miles  broke  out  at  that  sight;  "it's  weeks 
and  weeks  since  I  set  foot  on  land." 

"  Pooh  !  I've  been  ashore  thrice  already,"  bragged 
Francis,  setting  one  arm  akimbo,  though  he  took 
good  care  to  grip  the  shrouds  tightly  with  the  other 
hand,  for  the  bulwark  was  not  the  safest  of  perches. 

Miles  tried  to  swallow  down  his  envy,  but  he 
could  not  help  saying,  with  a  touch  of  triumph  : 
"  Anyhow,  you  saw  no  savages,  and  my  father  saw 
'em  when  he  went  exploring  with  Captain  Standish, 
—  six  Indians  and  a  dog,  he  saw." 

"  So  did  my  father,"  Francis  sought  to  crush 
him  ;  but  Miles,. declaring  sudden  truce,  was  asking, 
with  civil  interest :  "  You  did  not  see  any  lions 
when  you  went  ashore,  did  you,  Francis  ? " 

"N — no,  but  Ned  Dotey  thought  he  heard  one 
roar  the  other  night." 

"  Father  would  not  take  our  mastiff  Trug  on  land 
lest  they  kill  him.  Trug  would  give  'em  a  fight  for 
it,  though.  But  he  couldn't  fight  the  serpents;  no- 
body could.  Did  you  know,  Francie,  there's  a 
serpent  here  in  America, — they  call  it  the  rattle- 


4  Soldier  Rigdale 

snake,  —  and  if  it  but  breathe  on  you,  you  die 
presently." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  asked  Francis,  awed,  but 
incredulous. 

"  My  father  read  it  in  a  book  about  plantations 
in  Virginia.  Maybe  the  serpents  lie  close  in  cold 
weather,  though,  so  you  did  not  see  them."  Miles 
was  silent  a  long  instant,  while  he  gazed  fixedly  at 
the  mysterious  shore  yonder,  where  all  these  rarities 
were  to  be  met  with.  "  The  trees  do  not  look  like 
our  English  trees,"  he  said,  half  to  himself,  "  but 
I'd  fain  go  in  among  them.  Perhaps  you  found 
conies  there,  Francis  ?  There  were  a  plenty  of  them 
on  the  common  at  home ;  Trug  and  I  used  to  chase 
them,  and  'twas  brave  sport." 

"  Mayhap  if  you  had  Trug  with  you,  you  could 
start  some  here,"  suggested  Francis.  "  Tell  you, 
Miles,  you  beg  your  father  let  you  go  ashore  to- 
morrow, and  I'll  go  too,  and  we'll  seek  for  conies 
together.     Will  you  ?  " 

"  'Tis  no  use,"  Miles  answered,  scowling  straight 
ahead. 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Father  says  I  cannot  go,"  the  boy  blurted  out. 
"  I  answered  him  saucily  this  morning,  and  he  said 
for  that  I  should  not  stir  foot  off  the  ship  for  a 
week.  I  think  —  I  think  he  might  let  me  go 
ashore.     Along   the  first   I   was   coughing,  so  my 


Playing  with  Powder  5 

mother  said  I  must  not  venture  in  the  boat ;  and 
then  my  sister  Dolly  was  ailing,  and  I  must  stay  to 
bear  her  company  ;  and  then  it  stormed ;  and  now 
he  will  not  let  me  go.  And  I  am  so  weary  of  this 
ship  ! " 

"  I'd  not  bear  such  usage  from  any  man,"  Francis 
boasted  grandly.  "  If  'twere  my  daddy  treated  me 
so  harshly,  I'd  tell  him  to  his  face  'a'  was  a  sour  old 
curmudgeon,  and  —  " 

"  You  need  not  talk  so  of  my  father,"  Miles 
interrupted  sullenly,  though  he  held  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  shore  line,  not  on  the  speaker.  It  was 
hard,  while  he  looked  toward  the  land  of  wonders, 
still  unknown  to  him,  to  think  quite  kindly  of  the 
father  who  had  arbitrarily  shut  him  out  from  the 
enjoyment  of  it.  "  If  you  miscall  him  so  again, 
Francis,  I'll  fight  you,"  he  added,  conscience- 
stricken,  in  the  hope  of  making  amends  for  the 
disloyalty  of  his  thoughts. 

Francis  bent  his  sharp  eyes  on  his  companion, 
but  did  not  take  up  the  challenge ;  indeed,  a  less 
discreet  lad  than  he  might  have  considered  an  in- 
stant before  coming  to  fisticuffs  with  Miles  Rigdale. 
The  boy,  for  his  scant  eleven  years,  was  of  a  proper 
height,  with  straight  back  and  sturdy  limbs,  a  stocky, 
yet  not  clumsy,  little  figure,  that  promised  a  vigor- 
ous stature  when  he  came  to  man's  age.  His 
deeply  tanned  face,  that  was  lightly  sprinkled  with 


6  Soldier  Rigdale 

brown  freckles,  was  square  and  resolute ;  his  blue 
eyes  were  very  level  and  honest ;  and  his  tousled 
brown  hair  tumbled  about  his  forehead  in  a  way  to 
make  more  women  than  his  mother  think  him  a 
bonny  boy.  For  the  rest,  he  was  clad  humbly 
enough  in  doublet  and  breeches  of  dark  gray  frieze, 
with  long  gray  stockings  and  stout  shoes ;  he  wore 
neither  cloak  nor  hat,  and  his  clenched  fists,  that 
now  rested  firmly  on  the  bulwark,  were  bare  and 
chapped  red  by  the  wind. 

It  was  the  sight  of  the  aggressive  fists  that  made 
Francis  use  a  different  tone :  "  You're  a  pretty 
comrade,  Miles,  to  fly  out  at  me  so." 

"  You  may  leave  my  father  in  peace,  then." 

"  Perhaps  you'd  wish  me  to  leave  you  in  peace 
too.  I  know  Goodman  Rigdale  has  forbid  his  little 
son  speak  to  me." 

"  I'm  still  speaking  to  you,  am  I  not  ?  "  answered 
Miles,  and  bent  to  adjust  one  of  his  shoes,  so 
Francis  could  not  see  his  face ;  those  last  words 
had  hit  dangerously  near. 

"  But  you'll  show  me  a  clean  pair  of  heels  very 
speedily,"  sneered  his  companion,  "for  yonder  the 
boat  with  your  good  father  is  putting  off  from  shore, 
and  when  he  comes  —  " 

"That's  how  the  wind  blows,  is  it?"  struck  in 
a  new  voice  close  at  hand.  Looking  over  his 
shoulder,  Miles  saw,  lounging  on  a  coil  of  rope  by 


Playing  with  Powder  7 

the  foremast,  a  certain  Edward  Lister,  one  of  the 
servants  of  Master  Stephen  Hopkins.  He  was  a 
slim,  dark  fellow  of  some  twenty  years,  whom  Miles 
admired  for  a  tall  swaggerer,  because  he  always  wore 
his  red  cap  rakishly  on  one  side,  and,  since  the  rules 
about  lighting  tobacco  aboard  ship  were  strict,  was 
ever  chewing  at  a  long  pine  splinter  instead  of  a 
pipe.  "  So  if  your  father  catch  you  with  Master 
Billington  here,  he'll  swinge  you  soundly,  eh,  Miles 
Rigdale  ?  "  he  asked,  with  his  mouth  quite  grave, 
but  a  glancing  mockery  in  his  black  eyes.  "  Bet- 
ter show  us  how  briskly  you  can  run  into  the 
cabin." 

Miles  ostentatiously  leaned  his  shoulders  against 
the  bulwark  and  crossed  one  leg  over  the  other,  as 
if  he  thought  to  finish  the  afternoon  in  that  position. 
Shifting  round  thus,  his  gaze  travelled  beyond  his 
companions  to  the  high  quarter-deck,  where  he 
spied  several  men  trudging  forth  from  the  round- 
house. "Has  the  conference  broken  off?"  he 
asked,  forgetting  in  his  curiosity  that  he  was  angry 
with  both  Francis  and  Ned  Lister. 

"  How  else  ?  "  the  latter  answered  dryly,  and, 
rising  to  his  feet,  sauntered  over  to  the  two  boys. 
"  D'ye  think  they  would  confer  without  the  great 
Master  Hopkins  ?  And  he  quit  the  roundhouse 
long  since.  Wearied  out,  doubtless,  with  such  vig- 
orous labor.     It  has  taken  them  an  hour  to  deter- 


8  Soldier  Rigdale 

mine  no  more  than  to  send  forth  a  gang  to-morrow 
and  try  a  third  time  for  a  place  where  we  may- 
settle." 

"  Another  exploration  ?  Is  my  father  to  go  on 
it,  do  you  know  ?  "   Miles  questioned. 

"  They  won't  let  any  but  the  great  folk  have  a 
hand  therein ;  daddy  said  'twould  be  so,"  com- 
mented Francis. 

"  True  enough,"  scoffed  Lister  ;  "  the  Governor, 
and  Captain  Standish,  Master  Bradford,  Master 
Winslow,  Master  Hopkins,  and  —  the  worshipful 
Master  Edward  Dotey." 

"  Aha  !  "  jeered  Francis.  "  They're  taking  old 
Hopkins's  other  man  Dotey  along,  and  Ned  Lister 
is  jealous  of  him." 

"  Hold  your  tongue  !  "  cried  Lister,  catching  the 
lad  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck,  "  else  I'll  heave  you 
over  the  bulwark." 

Francis  twisted  up  his  face  and  opened  his  mouth 
in  a  prodigious,  dry-eyed  howl,  which  would  have 
set  Miles  laughing,  had  he  not  been  intent  just 
then  upon  the  approaching  boat.  He  could  see  her 
visibly  growing  larger,  as  she  bounded  nearer  and 
nearer  over  the  swell  of  the  water,  and  each  moment 
he  recalled  more  distinctly  in  what  terms  his  father 
had  forbidden  him  have  to  do  with  "  that  Satan- 
ish  brood  of  the  Billingtons."  Miles  shuffled  one 
foot  uneasily ;  perhaps  he  really  ought  to  go  into 


Playing  with  Powder  9 

the  cabin  now  and  see  how  his  sick  friend,  Jack 
Cooke,  was  faring. 

He  turned  away  and  had  idled  a  few  paces  along 
the  deck,  when  Francis,  who  had  been  suffered  wrest 
out  of  Lister's  hold,  called  after  him  :  "  Ah,  Miles 
daren't  let  his  father  find  him  with  me.     I  knew  so." 

"  It's  not  so,  neither,"  Miles  flung  back,  and 
made  a  great  show  of  stopping  by  the  mainmast, 
where  he  stood  gazing  down  the  open  hatchway 
which  led  to  those  cabins  that  were  in  the  depth  of 
the  hold.  "  Aren't  you  coming  with  me,  Francis  ?  " 
he  asked  presently. 

The  other,  quite  undeceived,  came  snickering  up 
to  him :  "  Have  no  fear ;  I'll  take  myself  off  ere 
your  father  come.  Sure,  you're  a  stout-hearted  one, 
Miles." 

"  You're  a  pretty  fellow  to  talk  of  courage,"  Miles 
was  goaded  into  replying,  "  after  the  way  you 
howled  out  but  now.  You  might  have  known  Ned 
Lister'd  do  you  no  hurt." 

"  No  doubt  you'd  not  have  been  afraid,"  his  tor- 
mentor scoffed.  "You're  not  afraid  of  anybody 
save  your  father." 

"  So  are  you,  if  you  told  the  truth  of  it,"  Miles 
took  him  up.  "  You'd  not  have  Goodman  Billing- 
ton  hear  you  vaporing  so  for  all  the  silver  crowns 
in  England,  and  if  Goodwife  Billington  came  by 
and  heard  you,  she'd  cuff  your  ears  smartly." 


io  Soldier  Rigdale 

Francis's  sallow  face  reddened.  "  Much  she 
would!"  he  said  angrily.  "I'll  show  you  I  be  no 
milksop  to  stand  in  fear  of  my  father  and  mother. 
Maybe  now  you  think  I'd  not  dare  to  — "  he 
paused,  his  eyes  half-closed,  while  he  tried  to  con- 
coct some  peculiarly  wicked  sounding  project  — 
"to  take  some  of  my  father's  gunpowder  and  make 
squibs  ?  "  he  concluded,  with  a  triumphant  iook  at 
his  companion. 

"  No,  I  don't  think  you  dare,"  Miles  answered 
stolidly. 

"  Come,  then,  I'll  show  you,"  the  other  cried, 
and  headed  for  the  companion  way  that  descended 
beneath  the  quarter-deck. 

Four  steps  down,  and,  passing  through  a  narrow 
door,  they  entered  into  the  stifle  and  stir  of 
the  "  great "  or  main  cabin.  On  every  hand  mur- 
mured the  ceaseless  confusion  that  always  filled  the 
straitened  space  :  underfoot,  sometimes  with  fretful 
wrangling,  children  were  at  play  ;  women  were  pass- 
ing to  and  from  their  cabins,  or  dressing  their  meat 
for  the  evening  meal  at  the  long  table;  upon  the 
benches  several  sick  men,  whose  heavy  voices  were 
audible  through  the  shriller  tones  of  those  about 
them,  sat  together  in  talk.  Over  all,  the  brightness 
from  the  narrow  skylights  fell  wanly,  so  the  corners 
of  the  low  apartment  were  dusky  with  thick  shadows, 
and  the  dim  outline  of  the  great  timbers  overhead, 


Playing  with   Powder  n 

and  the  slits  of  doors  into  the  double  tier  of  little 
cabins  adjoining,  could  only  just  be  made  out. 

Miles  was  glad  of  the  half  light,  for  he  knew  well 
that  if  his  mother  should  chance  to  be  there  and  see 
him  with  Francis,  she  would  make  a  pretext  of  some 
task  to-  call  him  to  her.  He  caught  sight  of  her 
now,  as  she  stood  by  the  table  in  speech  with  Con- 
stance Hopkins,  and,  almost  treading  on  Francis's 
heels  in  his  hurry,  he  slipped  into  the  Billingtons' 
cabin. 

It  was  the  veriest  closet  of  a  room  in  which  he 
found  himself,  black,  save  for  a  glint  of  sickly  light 
that  crept  through  an  opening  in  the  door,  by  which 
Miles  contrived  presently  to  discern  the  unmade 
bunk  along  the  wall,  the  mattress,  still  spread  out 
upon  the  floor,  and  the  iron  kettle  and  other  vague 
household  stuff  that  littered  untidily  the  narrow 
space.  Comparing  it  with  his  father's  ordered 
cabin,  he  recalled  his  mother's  indignant  comment 
to  Mistress  Hopkins,  that  Ellen  Billington  was  a 
poor,  thriftless  body,  who  would  better  be  tidying 
her  quarters  than  gossiping  with  her  neighbors. 

cc  Now  you'll  see  what  I  dare,  Master  Miles," 
Francis  broke  in,  as,  with  much  panting,  he  dragged 
from  beneath  the  bunk  a  small  keg.  "  This  is  gun- 
powder, if  you  be  not  afraid  of  the  sight  of  it." 

"  It  does  not  take  much  courage  to  touch  gun- 
powder,"   said    Miles,    bending    forward    from    the 


12  Soldier  Rigdale 

bunk,  where  he  had  seated  himself,  and  plunging 
his  fist  into  the  keg.  "  Let's  see  your  squibs, 
Francis." 

Young  Billington  stretched  himself  on  his  stomach 
and,  grubbing  once  more  beneath  the  bunk,  drew 
out  a  fistful  of  rustling  papers.  "  These  are  leaves 
I  tore  from  a  jest  book  of  daddy's,"  he  bragged. 
"  No  doubt  you  won't  believe  I  durst." 

Miles  made  no  reply;  after  all,  he  scarcely  cared 
to  prolong  his  differences  with  a  boy  who  had  such 
a  delightful  plaything  as  a  keg  of  powder.  "  Let 
me  make  a  squib  too,  Francie,"  he  begged,  squatting 
down  on  the  mattress  beside  his  host. 

For  a  space  there  was  silence,  while,  with  some 
hard  breathing,  the  two,  guided  more  by  touch  than 
by  any  sight  they  had  in  the  dark  cabin,  labored  in- 
dustriously. Blacker  and  blacker  it  grew  all  round 
them,  till  they  struck  their  hands  together  as  they 
groped  in  the  keg,  when  a  ray  of  faint  yellow  light, 
that  must  fall  from  a  lantern  in  the  great  cabin,  stole 
through  the  door. 

Now  they  could  see  how  they  were  faring  at  their 
work,  and  Francis,  who  had  laid  his  handfuls  of 
powder  on  the  papers  and  folded  them  quite  dexter- 
ously, laughed  in  provoking  fashion  at  Miles,  who, 
new  to  this  game,  had  spilt  the  powder  and  failed  to 
make  his  papers  stay  folded.  "  It's  all  very  well," 
the  boy  retorted   irritably,  as  one  of  his  painfully 


Playing  with  Powder  13 

made  squibs,  bursting  open,  scattered  powder  be- 
tween his  knees,  "  but  after  you've  made  these 
mighty  squibs  what  else  do  you  do  ?  " 

"  Why,  I'll  light  a  bit  of  match,"  said  Francis, 
scrambling  to  his  feet,  "and  then  we'll  touch  'em  off." 

Miles  jumped  up  delightedly,  and,  reasoning  that 
a  really  satisfactory  squib  should  be  set  off  in  dark- 
ness, took  from  the  bunk  a  blanket  which  he  fas- 
tened by  two  nails  across  the  opening  in  the  door. 

Meantime  Francis  had  struck  his  father's  flint 
and  steel  together,  till  at  length  he  succeeded  in 
catching  a  spark  upon  the  piece  of  "  match "  or 
twisted  tow  steeped  in  saltpetre.  Miles  could  see 
the  little  red  point  shimmering  in  the  dark  and, 
picking  up  the  squibs,  he  moved  warily  toward  it. 
"  Gi'  me  a  squib,"  came  Francis's  voice,  close  at  his 
feet.  More  accustomed  to  the  dimness  now,  Miles 
could  make  out  the  boy's  crouching  figure  and  saw 
him  lean  far  forward  with  one  arm  outstretched  to 
touch  off  the  powder. 

Then  he  felt  Francis  crowd  up  against  his  knees, 
and  instinctively  he  drew  back  so  his  own  body  was 
pressed  against  the  wall.  Out  of  the  dark  on  the 
floor,  right  at  his  feet,  started  a  little  flicker  of 
flame  which,  with  a  sudden  whishing  sound,  leaped 
up,  a  broad,  bluish  puff  of  fire,  almost  in  his  eyes ; 
then,  before  the  exclamation  had  left  his  lips,  died 
sizzling  away. 


14  Soldier  Rigdale 

"  That  was  brave,  wasn't  it  ?  "  spoke  Francis,  in 
a  rather  quavering  voice.  "  You  can  touch  off  one 
now." 

Miles  eagerly  seized  the  match  and,  setting  it  to 
a  squib,  flung  the  twisted  paper  a  pace  from  him. 
The  same  whiz,  burst,  sizzle,  but  this  time  he  lost 
the  keen  pleasure  in  a  sudden  hideous  thought  that, 
even  as  the  squib  left  his  hand,  came  over  him. 
"  Francis,"  he  cried,  before  the  flame  died  down, 
"  is  this  safe,  think  you  ?  Say  the  powder  in  the 
keg  took  fire  ?  " 

"  Pshaw !  You're  afraid ;  I  knew  you'd  be,"  re- 
plied Francis,  his  own  courage  quite  restored. 

Thereupon  Miles  lit  a  third  squib  to  show  his 
fearlessness,  and  then  together  they  set  off  the  re- 
maining two.  "That's  the  last,  and  I've  no  more 
paper,"  sighed  Francis,  and  Miles  echoed  the  sigh. 

They  were  sitting  now  on  the  edge  of  the  bunk ; 
the  cabin  seemed  very  black  to  their  eyes,  still  dazzled 
with  the  last  flash,  and  the  air  was  hot  and  heavy 
with  the  pungent  odor  of  burnt  powder.  Miles 
sniffed  it  contentedly.  "  This  is  what  'twould  be 
like  in  a  great  battle,"  he  began.  "  Sometime  I  mean 
to  be  a  soldier  and  have  a  musket.  Did  you  ever 
shoot  with  a  musket,  Francis  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I've  shot  off  a  fowling  piece,"  answered 
the  other.  He  clambered  upon  the  bunk,  groping 
audibly  in  the  dark,  and  presently  dropped  down 


With  his  arm  up  to  shut  out  the  glare  of  the  lanterns." 


Playing  with  Powder  15 

again  beside  his  companion  with  something  long  and 
slender  and  heavy  in  his  arms.     "  Look  you,  Miles 
here's  daddy's  fowling  piece  now,"  he  said  exultantly. 
"  What  say  if  I  shoot  her  off?  " 

"  'Twould  make  a  mighty  big  noise  in  so  small  a 
room,"  Miles  answered  longingly. 

"  Give  me  the  match,  then." 

Later  Miles  remembered  clearly  how  Francis  had 
sprung  to  his  feet  at  the  word,  but  after  that  all 
was  a  confusion  of  dire  noises,  —  a  rending  crash, 
then  a  sound  of  women  screaming,  of  children  cry- 
ing, and  of  men  running  with  clattering  footsteps 
across  the  great  cabin.  Through  it  all  he  felt  the 
weight  of  Francis  Billington,  who  had  pitched  back 
against  him,  and  he  saw  a  little  spurt  of  yellow  fire 
that  licked  along  the  boards.  Though  he  did  not 
remember  snatching  a  blanket  from  the  bunk,  one 
was  in  his  hand,  and  he  was  down  upon  the  floor, 
smothering  the  flames  that  would  press  out  beyond 
the  edges.  A  powder  keg  was  somewhere  near,  he 
recollected,  and  he  beat  out  one  little  jet  of  flame 
with  his  hand,  that  smarted  fiercely. 

It  all  must  have  taken  a  long,  long  time,  but  still 
the  women  screamed,  and  the  heavy  footsteps  had 
only  just  reached  the  door.  The  latch  rattled  be- 
neath a  rough  hand,  the  light  streamed  into  the 
cabin,  and  Miles  dropped  back  against  the  bunk, 
with  his  arm  up  to  shut  out  the  glare  of  the  lanterns, 


1 6  Soldier  Rigdale 

and  the  sight,  too,  of  the  angry  faces  in  the  doorway. 
"  Francis,  Francis,"  he  found  himself  saying,  in  a 
poor  whisper  that  he  realized   was   not   meant   for 

Francis  Billington's  ears,  "we  must  'a'  killed  some 

>> 
one. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    NAME    OF    MILES 

IN  the  great  cabin  two  huge,  smoky  lanterns, 
that   swayed  from   the  beams   overhead,  cast 
blending   white   circles   in    the   middle    space, 
while    the    corners    still    remained    dusky.      Some- 
where,   there    in    the    dark,   a    woman    was    crying 
hysterically,  and   others,  calmer,  but  with  startled, 
white  faces,  were  standing  beyond  the  group  of  men, 
who  were  gathered  round  the  door  of  the  Billing- 
tons'   cabin.     Miles  saw   about   him   all   the   faces, 
terrified   or  menacing,  but  it  was  blurrily,  as  in  a 
dream.     He  kept  telling  himself  it  was  all  a  dream, 
an  ugly  dream,  and  presently   he  would  awake  to 
find  he  had  never  gone  with  Francis  Billington,  and 
very  glad  he  would  be  to  awake  so. 

But  the  grasp  on  his  neck  —  it  was  big  John 
Alden,  the  cooper  from  Southampton,  who  had 
dragged  him  out  into  the  great  cabin  — was  real, 
and  so,  he  now  found,  were  the  faces  of  the  men 
who  confronted  him.  The  Elder,  William  Brews- 
ter, with  his  gray  hair,  and  grave  Governor  Carver, 
he  noted  among  them,  with  a  hopeless  feeling  that 

C  iy 


!8  Soldier  Rigdale 

all  the  majesty  of  the  company  was  come  thither  to 
judge  him.  Close  by,  he  heard  Francis  Billington 
crying,  with  tearful  sobs,  not  dry  howls  alone,  but 
Miles  dropped  his  shamed  eyes  to  the  floor  of  the 
cabin  and  did  not  look  at  his  companion.  He 
heard  Goodman  Billington's  rough  voice,  thick  with 
abuse  and  threats  against  his  son,  and  then  he 
heard  the  Elder  cut  him  short:  "  Peace  now,  friend. 
Maybe  the  lad  is  hurt." 

Just  then,  from  within  the  Billingtons'  cabin, 
whence  a  light  smoke  still  drifted,  spoke  a  quick, 
deep  voice:  "  Come  you  in  and  lend  a  hand,  Alden. 
There  is  work  for  two  needs  despatch.  The  floor 
here  is  over  shoe  thick  with  powder." 

"Ay,  Captain  Standish,"  the  young  man  an- 
swered promptly,  and  loosed  his  hold  on  Miles's 

collar. 

There  was  a  little  movement  in  the  group  of 
men,  and  Master  Stephen  Hopkins,  stepping  closer 
to  the  cabin  door,  peered  in  and  spoke  solemnly  : 
"A  full  keg  of  powder  broke  open!  'Tis  by  the 
mercy  of  Heaven  alone  the  ship  was  not  blown  into 

atoms."  n 

"  I  did  not  have  it  in  mind  to  blow  up  the  ship, 
Miles  faltered,  raising  his  eyes.     "  I  did  but  touch 
off  a    squib  — because    it    would    burn    bravely." 
There  the  words  choked  in  his  throat,  for,  a  little 
back  from   the  other  men,  he  caught  sight  of  his 


The  Name  of  Miles  19 

father,  and  Goodman  Rigdale's  arms  were  folded, 
his  heavy  brows  drawn  close  together,  and  his  lips, 
beneath  his  beard,  set  in  a  way  Miles  knew  of  old. 
"  I  did  not  mean  it,"  he  repeated  huskily,  and,  gaz- 
ing at  the  floor  again,  began  crushing  a  fold  of  his 
doublet  in  his  hand. 

About  him  there  was  questioning  and  answering, 
he  knew,  and  he  heard  Francis  whimper:  "  'Twas 
Miles.     He  touched  off  squibs,  he  did." 

"  Squibs  do  not  make  such  a  noise  as  that  we 
heard,"  Governor  Carver  interrupted  sternly. 

"'Twas  daddy's  fowling  piece.  Miles  Rigdale 
and  I  shot  her  off,  and  he  —  " 

"  Let  Miles  Rigdale  rest,"  the  Elder  admonished. 
"Do  you  tell  us  of  Francis  Billington." 

Bit  by  bit  a  fairly  accurate  story  was  drawn  from 
the  two  boys,  though  by  such  slow  and  woful  stages 
that  before  it  was  ended  Captain  Miles  Standish 
and  John  Alden,  with  their  hands  all  grimed  with 
powder,  came  out  from  the  cabin.  Miles  stole  a 
fearful  side-glance  at  the  Low  Country  soldier,  who, 
being  trained  in  the  brutal  discipline  of  the  camps, 
was  likely  to  prove  a  harsher  judge  than  the  Elder 
or  the  Governor,  but,  to  his  relief,  he  saw  the  Cap- 
tain halt  beside  Goodman  Billington,  to  whom  he 
growled  out  some  pithy  advice  as  to  the  expediency 
of  keeping  his  powder  covered  up  and  out  of  reach 
of  mischievous  hands. 


20  Soldier  Rigdale 

Miles  took  heart  a  little  then,  as  much  as  he 
could  take  heart  while  he  knew  Goodman  Rigdale 
was  frowning  in  the  background,  and  even  ventured 
to  look  up  when  he  heard  Elder  Brewster  say,  in  a 
tone  which  a  trace  of  amusement  and  much  relief 
made  almost  kindly :  "  Well,  well,  'twas  no  Guy 
Fawkes  conspiracy,  it  seems,  only  the  folly  of  two 
scatter-brained  lads.  Your  Excellency  scarce  will 
set  them  in  the  bilboes  ?  " 

"  Nay,  I  leave  it  to  their  fathers  to  teach  them 
not  to  meddle  with  such  tools  in  future,"  Governor 
Carver  answered  gravely ;  and  thereupon,  with  a 
surly  mutter  or  so  from  other  fathers  in  the  com- 
pany as  to  what  the  two  culprits  deserved  to  get, 
the  men  scattered  to  weightier  affairs. 

As  the  group  thinned,  Miles  was  left  face  to  face 
with  his  father,  who,  making  a  curt  sign  for  him  to 
come  after,  led  the  way  to  the  door  of  the  cabin. 
Miles  felt  queer  and  empty  at  the  pit  of  his  stomach, 
and  his  fingers  trembled  as  he  began  unhooking  his 
doublet,  but  he  followed  along  bravely.  His  eyes 
were  still  downcast,  and,  as  he  stepped,  he  counted 
the  planks  in  the  flooring  and  tried  to  think  of 
nothing  but  their  number. 

Out  in  the  darkness  of  the  forward  deck  his 
father  gave  him  such  punishment  as  he  looked  for, — 
a  beating  with  a  rope's  end,  so  hard  that  Miles  had 
to  set  his  teeth  tight  and  clench  his  hands  to  keep 


The  Name  of  Miles  21 

from  crying.  Once,  in  the  midst,  Goodman  Rigdale 
stayed  his  arm,  and  in  the  instant's  cessation  Miles, 
standing  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  felt  the  wind  from 
across  the  harbor  strike  cold  on  his  hot  flesh,  that 
was  quivering  with  the  blows.  "  That  is  for  that 
you  near  destroyed  the  ship,"  his  father  spoke, 
gravely  and  without  anger.  "  Now  I  must  flog 
you  for  that  you  disobeyed  me,  and  had  to  do 
with  one  of  those  Billington  imps." 

The  second  whipping  ended,  Miles  huddled  on 
his  doublet,  stiffly  and  awkwardly,  glad  of  the  dark- 
ness that  hid  his  face.  Goodman  Rigdale  was 
speaking  again  :  "  And  ere  you  lie  down  to-night, 
my  son,  remember  to  give  thanks  unto  God  that 
by  His  mercy  He  has  preserved  you  from  being 
cast  into  His  presence  with  the  deaths  of  all  that 
are  within  this  ship  upon  your  soul." 

Miles  did  not  quite  follow  the  words,  but,  with 
a  sense  that  he  was  the  chiefest  of  sinners,  and  with 
a  keen  realization  that  his  back  and  sides  were 
smarting,  he  gulped  out  an  unsteady  "Yes,  sir," 
and  blindly  fled  away. 

Aft  of  the  foremast,  as  he  stumbled  uncertainly, 
he  ran  against  a  woman,  and  at  once  he  knew  it  was 
his  mother.  In  an  unformed  way  he  was  aware  that 
she  had  been  waiting  to  comfort  him,  and  at  each 
blow  had  suffered  more  than  he.  Her  voice  was 
quavering  now,  though  she  tried  hard  to  keep  her 


11  Soldier  Rigdale 

everyday  tone:  "Come,  come  down  to  the  cabin 
now.  Father  has  shot  a  bird,  and  I've  made  a  broth 
to  our  supper.     Come,  deary,  it  is  turning  chill  here." 

Shaking  off  the  hand  she  laid  on  his  arm,  Miles 
broke  away  and  ran  to  the  mainmast,  where  the 
hatchway  yawned.  Slipping  and  swinging  on  the 
steep  ladder,  he  descended  headlong ;  he  was  not 
going  to  his  father's  cabin,  nor  did  he  know  whither 
he  was  going,  only  that  he  wanted  to  be  by  himself. 
On  the  orlop  deck  he  halted  an  instant  before  pass- 
ing down  into  the  hold ;  below,  there  would  be 
many  people,  while  here,  for  the  moment,  he  was 
alone.  He  stood  blinking  at  the  dim  lantern  that 
hung  by  the  ladder,  till  slowly  it  grew  blurry  to  his 
eyes,  and,  raising  his  bent  arm,  he  hid  his  face. 

It  seemed  only  a  moment  before  he  heard  some- 
one come  tramping  up  from  the  hold,  and  felt  a 
hand  on  his  shoulder.  He  was  turned  round  ;  he 
had  to  look  up  ;  and  he  saw,  standing  over  him, 
Master  Hopkins,  very  grim  and  stern,  as  was  his 
wont.  "  I  am  glad  to  see  these  tears  of  repentance, 
Miles  Rigdale,"  he  spoke  severely. 

Miles  wriggled  out  of  his  hold.  "  I  am  not 
repentant,"  he  cried.  "  I  wish  I  had  blown  you  up. 
Now  you  can  go  bid  my  father  flog  me  again." 
With  that  he  dodged  the  hand  Hopkins  put  out 
to  detain  him,  and,  jumping  over  some  coils  of 
rope,  scrambled  away  out  of  reach. 


The  Name  of  Miles  23 

Clambering  over  the  chests  and  kegs  that  were 
placed  upon  the  orlop,  he  paused  only  when  he 
reached  the  next  cleared  space,  by  the  forward 
hatchway  that  led  to  the  gunroom.  There  it  was 
all  dark,  a  comfortable,  thick  blackness,  and,  to 
make  it  safer  and  lonelier,  he  crept  under  a  table 
that  was  stored  among  other  household  stuff. 

For  a  moment  he  sat  panting,  and  listened  to  the 
lap,  lap  of  the  waves  upon  the  side  of  the  ship  and 
to  his  own  heavy  breathing,  but  he  heard  no  sound 
of  any  one's  pursuing  him.  Doubtless  Master  Hop- 
kins had  gone  away  to  tell  every  one  that  he  was 
crying  and  repentant,  Miles  tormented  himself;  no 
matter,  he  was  never  coming  out  to  be  jeered  at 
and  preached  to;  he  would  stay  under  the  table 
forever,  and  he  would  not  shed  another  tear  to 
please  them. 

So  he  sat,  rigid  and  still,  and  each  moment  grew 
more  keenly  aware  that  he  was  sore  from  his  beating, 
that  his  head  ached,  and  his  burnt  hand  throbbed, 
and  his  heart  was  big  with  a  great  burden  of  shame. 
Of  a  sudden,  in  the  stillness  and  dark,  he  heard  a  sob. 
Then  he  found  it  was  himself,  lying  with  his  head 
buried  in  his  arms  against  the  crosspiece  that  braced 
the  legs  of  the  table,  and  crying  helplessly. 

He  had  lost  track  of  the  minutes,  but  he  had  lain 
there  a  long  time,  he  knew,  for  his  arms  were  numb 
with  the  pressure   of  the  crosspiece   against  them, 


24  Soldier  Rigdale 

and  his  throat  ached  with  much  sobbing,  when  he 
caught  the  sound  of  a  footstep  on  the  planking  of 
the  orlop.  At  the  same  moment,  light  beat  against 
his  smarting  eyelids,  and,  opening  his  eyes,  he  raised 
his  head  to  look. 

The  edges  of  the  table  under  which  he  crouched 
were  silhouetted  blackly  against  the  yellow  lantern- 
glow,  which  crept  midway  into  his  shelter.  Follow- 
ing with  his  eyes  along  the  light,  he  could  see 
beyond  the  table  the  joinings  of  the  planks  of  the 
floor,  a  bit  of  the  ladder  that  led  to  the  main 
deck,  and  by  the  ladder,  in  shadow  as  the  lantern 
was  raised,  the  lower  part  of  a  man's  body. 

Miles  stared  breathlessly  at  the  commonplace 
leather  shoes  and  kersey  breeches,  —  all  the  rest  the 
table  hid  from  his  view,  —  while  he  strove  to  hold 
back  a  sob  that  was  halfway  up  his  throat.  It 
would  out,  but  he  tried  to  turn  it  into  a  sneeze, 
which  ended  in  a  mournful,  indefinable  gurgle. 

Instantly  the  light  of  the  lantern,  swinging  round, 
swept  almost  into  his  face,  and  a  deep  voice  com- 
manded: "  Come  out  hither." 

Miles  sat  up,  tense  and  braced.  "  Is  it  you,  Cap- 
tain Standish  ? "  he  asked,  in  a  small  voice.  Not 
that,  to  his  knowledge,  Miles  Standish  had  ever 
hurt  any  one,  but  he  was  a  brusque,  peremptory 
man,  reputed  of  a  fiery  temper ;  it  was  for  this, 
probably,  that  Master  Hopkins  had  sent  him  hither, 


The  Name  of  Miles  25 

as  one  fitted  to  deal  out  further  punishment  to  such 
a  criminal  as  Miles  Rigdale. 

"  Come  out,  and  you'll  speedily  find  if  'tis  I," 
Standish's  voice  rejoined  grimly. 

Miles  rubbed  his  sleeve  across  his  eyes,  the  rough 
frieze  hurting  them  rarely,  then  dubiously  crept  from 
his  shelter.  The  straight  course  was  to  crawl  toward 
the  light,  but  to  go  that  way  would  land  him  squarely 
at  the  Captain's  feet,  —  a  last  touch  of  ignominy  that 
he  could  not  endure.  So  he  scrambled  painfully 
over  the  crosspieces  and  round  the  table-legs,  till  he 
came  out  upon  the  open  floor  the  width  of  the  table- 
top  from  the  enemy. 

"  It's  naught  but  you,  is  it  ?  "  the  Captain  greeted 
him,  and  turned  the  lantern  so  the  light  fell  full 
upon  him. 

The  boy  struggled  hastily  to  his  feet.  "Ay,  sir," 
he  nodded,  without  speaking  or  looking  up. 

The  other  drew  a  step  nearer.  "  You're  one 
of  the  knaves  who  tried  to  blow  up  the  Mayflower ', 
are  you  not  ? "  he  questioned  sternly.  "  Did  you 
steal  down  here  to  fire  the  magazine  and  finish  the 
work  ?  " 

"I  —  I  did  not  go  for  to  blow  up  the  ship,  sir," 
Miles  pleaded,  raising  his  eyes.  With  amazed  re- 
lief, he  saw  that,  for  all  his  gruff  tone,  the  Captain 
looked  more  amused  than  angry. 

Standish  must  have  taken  closer  note  of  him,  too, 


26  Soldier  Rigdale 

for  he  asked  abruptly  :  "You're  John  Rigdale's  lad, 
are  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  am  Miles  Rigdale." 

The  lantern  was  lowered  suddenly.  "  My  name- 
sake, are  you  ?  Do  you  not  think,  sirrah,  you  bear 
too  good  a  name  to  drag  it  into  a  powder-burning 
matter  such  as  this  ?  " 

«  I  do  not  hold  it  a  good  name,"  Miles  burst  out. 
"  I  would  they  had  called  me  plain  Jack." 
"  Wherefore,  pray  you  ?  " 

"  Miles  is  no  name  at  all,"  the  boy  hesitated,  be- 
tween shyness  and  the  desire  to  vent  a  long-standing 
resentment.     "  It  makes  me  think  of  the  stone  in  our 
village  that  said  :  <  Thirteen  miles  to  London/  ' 
"  Tut,  tut,  lad  !     Have  you  no  Latin  ?  " 
Miles  slipped   one  hand  under  the  edge  of  the 
table  against  which  he  leaned,  and  picked  at  a  splinter 
he  found  there,  while  he  stammered  :  "  N — no,  sir. 
There  was  no  school  in  our  village,  and,  had  there 
been,  my  father  could  not  spare  me  from  the  farm. 
I   must  help   him,  for  I'm   mighty  strong  for  my 
years,"  he  added  gravely.     "  And  I  never  want  to  go 
sit  in  a  school,  either.     I  am  glad  there  will  be  no 
schools  here  in  the  plantation,  not  till  I'm  a  man  and 
can  do  as  I  will.     I  hold  that  is  the  best  part  of  all  in 
planting  a  colony,  except  the  lions  and  the  savages." 
"  And  what  do  you  think  to  do  with  the  lions  and 
savages,  Miles  Rigdale  ? " 


The  Name  of  Miles  27 

"  Fight  'em,  sir." 

Captain  Standish  chuckled  softly  in  his  beard. 
"  You'll  fight  'em,  eh  ?  'Tis  a  great  pity,  in  truth, 
no  one  has  told  you  what  name  you  bear.  You 
should  know  that  Miles  in  the  Latin  tongue  signifies 
'a  soldier.'  " 

Miles  forgot  that  his  cheeks  were  tear-stained  and 
his  eyes  swollen,  and  looked  up  happily  into  the 
speaker's  face.  "  I  am  right  glad  of  that,"  he  an- 
nounced. "  'Tis  a  good  enough  name,  after  all." 
He  was  sorely  tempted  to  ask  the  Captain  if  he  had 
been  named  that  after  he  proved  himself  a  soldier  in 
the  wars,  or  if  they  named  him  first  and  he  grew 
to  it  afterward,  but  he  concluded  that  would  be  over- 
bold. 

Though,  after  all,  he  began  to  doubt  if  Captain 
Standish  were  such  a  terrible  body.  He  looked 
pleasant  enough  now,  as  he  stood  in  the  lantern  light, 
—  a  stocky,  square-shouldered  man  of  some  six  and 
thirty  years,  with  yellow-brown  hair  and  beard,  and 
eyes  so  deep  set  under  his  brows  Miles  could  not  tell 
their  color.  The  linen  bands  at  his  neck  and  wrists 
were  small  and  plain,  and  along  the  sides  of  his 
doublet  of  dark  maroon  kersey  the  rubbing  of  armor 
had  worn  down  the  cloth.  He  was  not  so  fine 
a  gentleman,  doubtless,  as  young  Master  Edward 
Winslow,  but  he  looked  the  man  of  war,  through 
and  through,  and,  moreover,  he  neither  scolded  nor 


28  Soldier  Rigdale 

preached  at  a. small  sinner;  Miles  began  to  be  glad 
in  his  heart  that  he  bore  the  same  name  as  the 
Captain. 

"  So,  after  all,  you're  content  to  be  named  'Sol- 
dier' Rigdale?"  Standish  suddenly  read  the  ex- 
pression of  his  face. 

"'Tis  a  soldier  that  I  mean  to  be,"  Miles  con- 
fessed.    "  I  like  the  smell  of  powder." 

"  So  it  seems,"  the  Captain  answered,  in  the  dry- 
est  possible  tone,  and  then,  as  Miles's  cheeks  began 
to  burn,  went  on  hastily :  "  Which  was  it,  you  or 
the  Billington  lad,  put  out  the  fire?  We  found 
the  blanket  on  the  floor  of  the  cabin." 

"  Mayhap  'twas  I.     I  do  not  recall  it  clearly." 
The  Captain  reached  out  his   hand,  and,  taking 
Miles  by  a  fold  of  the  doublet-sleeve,  lifted  his  arm. 
"No  doubt  'twas  you,"  he  said;  "you've  blistered 
your  hand  here." 

"  I  know.  It  aches,"  Miles  whispered,  with  a 
sudden  husky  dropping  of  his  voice. 

"You'd  better  go  to  your  mother  straightway 
and  ask  her  to  put  oil  on  it ;  that  will  soon  draw 
out  the  fire." 

"  I  can't,"  Miles  gulped.  "  I  can  never  go  out 
among  the  people  again.  When  they  all  think  I 
tried  to  blow  them  up,  —  and  when  every  one  will 
know  I  have  been  newly  whipped.  I  shall  stay 
here  forever."     His  voice  died  down  as  he  spoke 


The  Name  of  Miles  29 

the  last :  it  did  not  sound  manly,  but  uncommon 
silly. 

"You'd  get  mighty  hungry  if  you  did,"  the  sol- 
dier answered  him  coolly.  "  You're  going  to  your 
mother  now,  my  man.  Run  along  with  you.  I've 
to  go  on  down  into  the  gunroom,  but  I'll  light  you 
up  the  ladder." 

Miles  gave  a  tremulous  gasp  of  resignation,  and 
scuffed  slowly  to  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  where  he 
paused  and  smeared  the  back  of  his  hand  across  his 
cheeks  ;  then  turned  to  his  companion.  "  Captain 
Standish,"  he  hesitated ;  then,  as  it  was  the  only 
possible  way  of  learning  what  he  wished  to  know 
before  he  showed  himself  among  the  company,  he 
blurted  out  desperately,  "  Will  you  tell  me,  is  my 
face  clean  ? " 

Captain  Standish  looked  down  at  him  with  a 
funny  expression  in  his  eyes.  "  I  think  'twill  serve 
in  a  half  light,  if  you  slip  directly  into  your  father's 
cabin." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  Miles  answered ;  then  added 
hastily,  "  You  see,  there  was  something  flew  into 
my  eye,  and  one  that  did  not  know  might  think 
—  I   had  been  crying." 


CHAPTER   III 


THIEVISH    HARBOR 


ONE  sharp  December  afternoon,  a  week  and 
a  day  after  the  Pilgrim  leaders  went  forth 
the  third  time  to  seek  a  place  for  settle- 
ment, Love  Brewster  and  his  little  brother  Wres- 
tling climbed  down  to  the  cabins  beneath  the  main 
deck  to  visit  their  playmate,  Dolly  Rigdale.  The 
cubby  where  Dolly  and  Miles  and  their  father  and 
mother  had  lived  during  the  two  months  of  the 
voyage  over  the  sea  and  the  five  weeks  of  explora- 
tion that  followed,  was  a  dim  box  of  a  place,  but 
the  little  boys  liked  to  visit  it,  not  only  to  talk  with 
Dolly,  who  was  nearer  their  age  than  most  of  the 
children  in  the  company,  but  to  see  Trug  and 
Solomon. 

Trug  was  the  big,  grizzled  mastiff",  who  had 
guarded  the  house  and  the  cattle  faithfully  for  so 
many  years  that  even  stern  John  Rigdale  had  not 
the  heart  to  leave  him  to  strangers  ;  and  Solomon, 
with  the  wise  eyes  of  royal  yellow,  was  the  fat 
house-cat,  whom  Dolly  had  insisted  on  bringing 
with  her  to  the  new  home. 

30 


Thievish  Harbor  31 

"  If  it  had  been  my  pet,  'twould  V  had  to  bide 
in  England,"  Miles  had  told  himself,  in  one  bitter, 
jealous  moment,  of  which  he  was  justly  ashamed. 
For,  without  question,  Goodman  Rigdale  cared 
equally  for  his  two  children,  only  he  held  Miles, 
being  a  stubborn  chip  of  manhood,  needed  frequent 
beatings,  such  as  the  Scriptures  enjoined  on  good 
fathers  to  give  their  sons,  whereas  Dolly  was  just  a 
little  wench,  with  gray  eyes  like  her  mother,  so  she 
received  very  gentle  whippings  and  triumphantly 
lugged  Solomon  on  shipboard. 

The  sleek,  striped  creature  lay  beside  her  now, 
for  Dolly,  still  ailing  with  her  cough,  was  resting  on 
the  bunk  beneath  the  blankets.  Wrestling  Brews- 
ter, a  big-eyed,  silent  child,  sat  by  her,  and,  sorry 
to  tell,  joined  forces  with  the  little  girl  in  rumpling 
poor  Solomon's  fur.  "  You  are  the  best  pussy," 
Dolly  purred  meantime,  and,  either  because  of  her 
flattery  or  because  the  warm  blankets  were  com- 
fortable, the  cat  made  no  movement  to  leave  her. 

Ordinarily  Miles  sniffed  at  the  conversation  of 
eight-year-olds,  such  as  his  sister,  but  this  afternoon 
he  gladly  lingered  in  the  cabin,  for  the  accomplish- 
ments of  the  Brewster  lads  were  amazing  enough  to 
lift  them  to  the  rank  of  companions.  Both  could 
jabber  Dutch  quite  as  fast  as  Miles  could  speak 
English,  and  Love,  the  talkative  one,  could  tell 
wonderful  stories  of  the  queer  Low  Country  city 


32  Soldier  Rigdale 

of  Leyden,  where  all  his  short  life  had  been  spent. 
It  was  of  Leyden  he  spoke  now,  sitting  beside 
Miles  on  the  turned-up  mattress,  where  at  night 
Goodman  Rigdale  and  his  son  slept,  and  Miles, 
with  a  question  here  and  there  to  draw  out  what  he 
sought,  listened  again  to  the  story  of  the  Pilgrims. 

Love  had  good  reason  to  know  it  well,  for  his 
father,  Elder  Brewster,  had  been  from  the  first  one 
of  the  leaders  of  the  little  company.  He  had  given 
all  his  substance  to  help  the  cause  of  that  faith 
which  the  bishops  of  the  great  Established  Church 
of  England  held  it  right  to  crush  out ;  he  had  suf- 
fered imprisonment  for  the  sake  of  that  faith ;  and 
finally,  that  he  and  his  friends  might  worship  God 
as  they  thought  best,  had  gone  into  exile  in  Hol- 
land. 

There  for  twelve  years  the  Pilgrim  church  held 
its  own,  though  its  members,  for  all  their  efforts 
to  support  themselves  in  that  strange  country,  fared 
hardly  and  poorly.  Good  Deacon  Fuller,  the  phy- 
sician, had  been  glad  to  earn  his  living  as  a  say  or 
serge  maker ;  Master  William  Bradford  had  been 
a  maker  of  fustian  ;  and  the  Elder  had  maintained 
his  family  and  aided  his  poorer  companions  by 
teaching  English  to  Danish  and  German  gentlemen, 
and  later  by  printing  English  books. 

Love  told  also  of  Master  Carver,  the  recently 
elected  governor  of  the  company,  who  had  given 


Thievish  Harbor  23 

his  whole  fortune  to  the  Pilgrim  cause ;  and  he 
spoke  of  gallant  Master  Edward  Winslow,  who, 
travelling  in  the  Low  Countries  with  his  newly- 
married  wife,  had  come  to  know  and  to  respect  the 
Pilgrim  folk  and  finally  to  cast  in  his  lot  with  theirs. 
And,  best  of  all,  Love  could  tell  of  Captain  Standish. 

There  the  boy  turned  to  what  Miles  had  been 
waiting  to  hear,  and  be  sure  that  now  he  eagerly 
drank  in  each  word :  how  the  Captain  came  of  a 
great  family  in  Lancashire,  where  he  had  a  vast 
estate  which  his  kinsfolk  had  taken  from  him,  — 
so  Love  had  once  heard  him  say  to  the  Elder ;  how 
he  had  fought  bravely  against  the  wicked  Spaniards, 
as  far  back  as  the  time  of  Queen  Bess,  when  Miles 
Standish  was  a  very  young  man  indeed ;  and  how, 
of  a  sudden,  he  had  come  with  his  young  wife  and 
joined  himself  to  the  Pilgrims,  why,  none  could 
say,  for  he  was  "  not  of  our  faith,"  Love  gravely 
quoted  the  older  people. 

That  last  did  not  greatly  displease  Miles,  per- 
haps because  his  own  father  was  rather  a  Puritan 
than  an  ardent  Separatist,  as  those  were  called  who, 
like  the  Pilgrims  of  Leyden,  broke  off  all  com- 
munion with  the  Established  Church.  Goodman 
John  Rigdale  grumbled  about  the  bishops  and  the 
vestments  of  the  clergymen  and  other  matters  which 
Miles  neither  heeded  nor  comprehended,  but,  for 
all  his  grumbling,  as  often  as  the  law  insisted,  he 


34  Soldier  Rigdale 

and  his  household  went  to  church.  One  of  the  first 
and  liveliest  recollections  of  childhood  which  Miles 
kept,  was  of  how  the  red  light  from  the  painted 
windows  that  his  father  hated  used  to  shift  along 
the  dark  oak  of  the  old  pews. 

Lately,  though,  John  Rigdale  had  spoken  out 
too  openly  against  the  service  book,  and  there  had 
been  a  citation  before  the  ecclesiastical  court.  Miles 
scarcely  understood  the  matter,  but  he  knew  that 
Dun-face,  the  pet  heifer,  had  been  sold  to  pay  a 
fine,  and  that  their  landlord,  swearing  that  he  was 
too  good  a  Church  of  England  man  to  suffer  a 
pestilent  Separatist  hold  a  farm  of  him,  had  refused 
to  renew  the  lease,  bought  long  ago  by  Miles's 
grandfather,  which  now  ran  out. 

Then  had  come  Master  Stephen  Hopkins,  the 
London  tanner,  whose  first  wife  had  been  a  distant 
cousin  of  John  Rigdale's,  and  he  had  talked  of  the 
new  country  over  seas,  where  a  man  might  have 
land  and  a  farm  of  his  own  for  the  asking  and  wor- 
ship to  please  his  conscience,  not  the  king's  bishops. 
Master  Hopkins  had  already  made  up  his  mind  to 
embark  with  the  people  from  Leyden ;  he  had  met 
their  agent,  Master  Cushman,  and  he  was  acquainted 
with  some  of  the  London  merchants  who  had 
formed  a  partnership  with  the  Leyden  people,  the 
Londoners  to  furnish  money  to  pay  the  expenses 
of  the  long  voyage,  the  Separatists  to  give  them- 


Thievish  Harbor  25 

selves  and  their  families  to  defend  and  till  the  plan- 
tation thus  gained. 

In  the  end,  Master  Hopkins's  statements  were 
so  weighty  that  Goodman  Rigdale  followed  his  ex- 
ample. The  stout  farm  horse  and  the  cows  and  the 
pigs  were  all  led  away  to  market,  and  Dolly  cried 
over  each  one ;  and  Goodwife  Rigdale,  too,  wept  a 
little  when  most  of  the  bits  of  furniture  were  sold. 
But  Miles  thought  it  all  very  merry  and  stirring,  — 
the  breaking  up  of  the  home  he  had  known,  the 
journey  to  Southampton,  all  amidst  new  sights  and 
sounds,  and  the  ship,  and  the  long  voyage  over  the 
sea,  till  the  Mayflower  dropped  anchor  off  Cape  Cod. 

He  was  more  than  a  bit  weary  of  the  voyage  and 
the  ship  now,  however,  as  he  sat  on  the  turned-up 
mattress  in  his  father's  stuffy  little  cabin.  The 
dead  air  was  cold  without  being  bracing,  and  Miles 
broke  short  Love's  discourse  on  the  journey  of  the 
Leyden  Pilgrims  into  England,  by  springing  up 
and  stamping  his  chilled  feet. 

"  It  is  a  shrewd  cold  day,"  said  his  companion. 
"  See  !  "  He  puffed  at  the  air,  and  his  breath  made 
a  little  white  cloud.  "  Maybe  we'd  best  go  up  on 
deck  and  run." 

At  that  word  the  two  older  boys  turned  to  the 
door,  but  Wrestling  shook  his  head  and,  pressing 
closer  to  Dolly,  whispered :  "  Before  I  go,  I  want 
that  you  show  me  the  Indian  basket." 


36  Soldier  Rigdale 

Miles  overheard,  and  delayed  to  draw  from  be- 
neath the  bunk  the  deal  box  in  which  the  treasure 
was  kept.  Wrestling  was  so  young  that  he  seemed 
hardly  more  than  a  baby,  and  as  a  baby  Miles  had 
a  kindly,  protecting  feeling  for  him  ;  when  he  rose 
with  the  box  he  opened  it  so  the  little  boy  might 
have  the  first  sight.  Within  lay  a  tiny  basket  all 
of  silk  grass,  pictured  on  which  in  black  and  white 
were  birds  and  flowers  of  a  curious  pattern. 

"  Did  your  father  truly  bring  it  from  the  In- 
dians ?  "  Love  asked. 

"  He  brought  it  home  to  me,"  Dolly  explained 
proudly.  "  It  was  in  an  Indian  house,  and  my 
father  found  it  when  he  went  ashore  with  Captain 
Standish.     And  so  he  brought  it  to  me." 

Wrestling  touched  the  fragile  thing  gingerly.  "  I 
wish  our  father  fought  the  Indians  once,"  he  mur- 
mured. 

"  It  is  better  to  be  an  Elder,"  Love  rebuked  him 
sternly ;  then  added,  lest  Dolly's  feelings  be  hurt, 
"  though,  to  be  sure,  there  can  be  but  one  Elder  in 
a  company.  The  rest  must  be  fighting  men,  must 
they  not,  Miles  ?  " 

But  Miles  gave  no  heed ;  for  just  then  the  sound 
of  soft  footsteps  made  him  glance  to  the  open  door, 
at  which  the  light  drifted  in,  and  there,  standing  on 
the  threshold,  he  saw  his  mother. 

Years    afterward,  when    he  looked  back,    Miles 


Thievish  Harbor  37 

realized  Goodwife  Rigdale  had  been  a  young  woman 
then,  not  above  thirty,  but  in  those  days  it  seemed 
to  him  she  must  be  old,  because  she  was  his  mother  ; 
he  even  wondered  that  she  had  not  hair  streaked 
with  gray,  like  Mistress  Brewster.  Mothers  were 
always  old,  he  generalized  rashly,  just  as  they  were 
always  gentle-spoken  and  full  of  kindness ;  only 
that  last  judgment  he  revoked,  after  he  came  aboard 
the  Mayflower  and  heard  Goodwife  Billington,  a  true 
London  virago,  rail  at  her  sons  and  saw  her  cuff 
them. 

But  his  own  mother  was  not  to  be  belittled  by 
naming  her  with  Ellen  Billington ;  she  was  every- 
thing that  was  good  and  to  be  loved,  even  if  she  did 
not  wear  such  a  brave  gown  as  Mistress  Winslow, 
nor  have  such  pink  cheeks  as  Mistress  Standish. 
Miles  drew  away  from  the  bunk,  against  which  he 
had  been  leaning,  to  make  room  for  her  to  sit, 
though  he  did  it  awkwardly,  because  Love  and 
Wrestling  were  looking. 

"  I'll  bide  a  bit  now  with  my  little  maid,"  she 
said,  as  she  drew  the  blankets  more  closely  about 
Dolly.  "  You'll  want  to  be  running  up  on  deck 
now,  I  can  guess,  deary,  and  Love  and  Wrestling 
too,  if  Mistress  Brewster  will  suffer  it." 

"  Mother,  is  the  shallop  in  sight  ? "  Miles  cried 
eagerly.  For,  since  the  exploring  party  sailed  forth 
a  week  before,  there  had  come  so  great  a  storm  that 


38  Soldier  Rigdale 

hearts  aboard  the  Mayflower  were  not  a  little  anxious 
for  their  welfare. 

"  They've  made  out  a  sail  to  the  southward,  I 
heard  the  talk  run.  Go  you  and  learn  further, 
Miles.     Your  father  will  be  on  deck  too." 

Miles  reddened  a  little ;  why  would  she  speak  as 
if  he  were  a  young  boy,  to  need  his  father?  "  Come, 
lads,"  he  said,  in  a  very  old  tone,  to  hide  his  morti- 
fication, and  led  the  way  from  the  cabin.  As  he 
passed  out  at  the  door,  he  heard  a  sorrowful  wail 
from  Dolly :  "  O  me !  Mammy,  can  I  not  run 
about  with  them  soon  ?  " 

But  Miles  forgot  Dolly's  woes  and  all,  when  he 
clambered  into  the  bracing  air  of  the  deck,  whither 
the  most  of  the  hale  ones  of  the  company  had,  like 
himself,  bustled  to  watch  the  approaching  shallop. 
Shreds  of  dappled  cloud  half  obscured  the  east,  but 
low  in  the  west  the  sun  was  cold  and  yellow,  and  its 
light  flecked  the  water  and  made  the  sail  of  the  dis- 
tant craft  gleam  like  gold. 

Miles  stared  till  for  very  dazzle  he  could  see  no 
longer,  then  turned  his  gaze  inboard,  where  it  rested 
on  the  slender  figure  of  a  woman,  who  leaned  against 
the  mainmast.  When  the  light  got  out  of  his  eyes, 
he  perceived  it  was  Mistress  Rose  Standish,  who, 
while  he  was  still  gazing  on  her,  came  to  the  bul- 
wark beside  him,  but,  without  seeming  to  see  him, 
stood  looking  toward  the  shallop. 


Thievish  Harbor  39 

Once  and  again  Miles  glanced  up  at  her,  thinking 
how  bonny  she  was  with  the  flush  on  her  cheeks 
and  her  brown  hair  straying  from  beneath  her  hood 
across  her  forehead ;  and  then  he  grew  suddenly 
hot,  for  she  chanced  to  look  down,  and  their  eyes 
met.  He  drew  away  bashfully  and  stared  again  at 
the  shallop  ;  the  sun  had  now  dropped  lower,  so  the 
waves  around  it  were  sombre,  but  within  the  boat 
sparkled  a  gleam  of  light  on  metal  armor.  Miles 
almost  thought  to  be  able  to  distinguish  the  forms 
of  the  men,  and  presently  their  faces.  "  Yon  is  the 
Captain,"  he  broke  out,  half  aloud. 

"  Do  you  see  him,  too  ? "  Mistress  Standisfc 
spoke,  as  if  he  had  addressed  her. 

"  That's  he,  by  the  mast,  with  the  steel  corselet." 

She  looked  down  again,  and  the  boy  noted  her 
eyes  were  moist,  though  she  smiled  as  she  said : 
I  You  seem  to  know  the  Captain  very  well,  sir." 

"  I'd  know  him  anywhere,"  Miles  answered  ear- 
nestly.    "You  understand,  he  was  right  kind  to  me." 

Then  he  broke  off  speech,  for  the  shallop  was 
now  fairly  alongside,  and  the  men  in  her  were  call- 
ing to  those  on  shipboard  greetings  and  questions 
and  answers.  Mistress  Standish  moved  quickly 
toward  the  gangway,  and  Miles  saw  her  meet  the 
Captain,  when  he  clambered  up  the  ladder. 

Next  after  him  came  Master  William  Bradford, 
and  suddenly   it  struck   with   a   shock  on    Miles's 


40  Soldier  Rigdale 

remembrance  that  Mistress  Bradford  was  dead, 
drowned  alongside  the  Mayflower  on  the  very  day 
after  the  shallop  sailed,  and  her  body  carried  away 
among  the  waves.  Master  Bradford,  for  all  the 
weariness  in  his  movements,  looked  cheerful  and 
hopeful  as  he  gained  the  deck,  and  his  eyes  went 
glancing  over  the  women  gathered  there  with  such 
a  certainty  of  meeting  one  that,  child  though  he 
was,  Miles  realized  something  of  the  pity  of  it. 

But  after  Elder  Brewster  had  led  Master  Brad- 
ford away,  the  horror  and  the  pity  slipped  quickly 
from  Miles.  Drawing  over  closer  to  the  gangway 
ladder,  he  stood  watching  the  rest  of  the  shallop's 
company  scramble  to  the  deck,  and,  listening  to 
every  scrap  of  speech,  was  soon  eager  as  any  of  the 
other  boys  in  questioning  the  sailors  and  Hopkins's 
man,  Dotey. 

The  minutes  ran  on  till  dim  twilight  had  dark- 
ened upon  the  water,  when  at  last,  bursting  with 
news,  Miles  clambered  down  again  to  Goodwife 
Rigdale  in  the  cabin.  "  They've  found  a  place  for 
us  to  settle,  mother,"  he  announced,  barely  within 
the  door. 

Goodwife  Rigdale  hushed  him  with  a  ringer  on 
her  lips ;  Dolly  was  asleep,  so  he  must  speak 
softly. 

Miles  curled  himself  up  on  the  floor  at  his 
mother's   feet,   with   his   elbow   on    her    knee,   and 


Thievish  Harbor  41 

whispered :  "  'Tis  at  a  place  called  Thievish  Har- 
bor—  " 

"  Nay,  that's  an  ill  name,"  commented  the  Good- 
wife. 

"  'Tis  because  a  savage  stole  a  harpoon  from  a 
ship's  boat  that  once  put  in  there  to  truck,  so  says 
Robert  Coppin,  the  pilot.  It  lies  across  a  great 
bay  here,  and  there  are  fair  green  islands  and  many 
brooks  and  cleared  land  and  tall  trees.  We  are 
going  thither,  all  of  us,  mother.  The  ship  is  to 
sail  so  soon  as  the  wind  favors.  And  if  they  like 
of  it  on  further  look,  we'll  go  ashore  and  stay.  I 
want  to  go  ashore  again,"  he  ended  wistfully ;  "  the 
week's  out  that  father  said  I  must  stay  on  the  ship. 
Won't  you  beg  him  take  me  ashore  first  thing  when 
we  come  thither,  mother  ?  " 

The  flickering  light  that  reached  them  from  the 
lantern  hung  outside  the  cabin  door  was  blotted 
out  then,  as  Goodman  Rigdale  himself  came  in. 
Miles  dared  ask  no  favors  of  him  directly,  however, 
but,  scrambling  to  his  feet,  stood  silent  and  unob- 
trusive, though  he  listened  eagerly  to  all  his  father 
had  to  say  of  Thievish  Harbor,  which  he  called 
Plymouth.  "  So  it  is  named  on  the  maps  that 
were  drawn  by  Captain  Smith,"  he  said,  to  which 
Goodwife  Rigdale  answered  quickly :  "  I  am  glad 
for  the  name.  Do  you  not  have  in  mind,  John, 
how  kindly  the  people  at  our   English   Plymouth 


42  Soldier  Rigdale 

dealt  by  us  when  we  had  to  put  in  at  their  har- 
bor?" 

But  this  new  Plymouth  in  America  bore  little 
resemblance  to  Plymouth  in  Devonshire,  as  Miles 
found,  to  his  surprise,  when  he  had  his  first  sight 
of  the  place  where  the  company  was  to  settle.  It 
was  on  the  afternoon  of  the  day  succeeding  the 
return  of  the  shallop  that,  the  wind  at  last  favoring, 
the  Mayflower  steered  her  course  for  the  bay  of 
Plymouth.  The  sunshine  was  strong  and  clear,  and 
the  air  mild,  so  Goodwife  Rigdale  suffered  Dolly 
come  up  on  deck,  where,  well  wrapped  in  a  cloak, 
she  stood  between  her  mother  and  Miles. 

Others  in  plenty,  all  the  passengers  who  could 
waik  about,  were  watching  for  a  glimpse  of  the  new 
home,  but  Miles,  in  his  eagerness,  scarcely  heeded 
his  companions.  He  strained  his  eyes  to  see  the 
headlands,  brave  with  evergreen,  loom  higher  and 
higher,  and  ran  to  question  his  friend,  Giles  Hop- 
kins, who  had  been  talking  with  the  sailors,  as  to 
what  they  were.  Giles  explained  that  the  one  on 
the  left  was  not  the  mainland,  but  a  well-wooded 
point,  and  on  the  right  yonder  the  farther  of  the 
two  islands,  with  the  trees,  was  where  the  explor- 
ing party  had  spent  their  Sabbath. 

By  the  time  Miles  returned  to  his  mother  with 
the  news,  they  were  running  in  between  the  point 
and  the  islands,  and  presently,  well  within  the  har 


: 


Thievish  Harbor  43 

bor,  they  dropped  anchor  in  a  safe  mooring  ground. 
All  about  them  were  headlands  and  islands ;  far  to 
the  right,  across  the  bay,  rose  a  great  hill ;  and 
just  over  opposite  where  the  ship  lay  a  broad 
space  of  open  land,  with  high  hills  behind,  could 
be  made  out. 

"  Yonder's  where  we'll  settle,"  Miles  assured  his 
mother. 

"  I  see  no  houses,"  protested  Dolly.  "  I  thought 
there  would  be  cottages,  maybe.  Must  we  lie  in 
the  woods,  mammy  ?  " 

"Nonsense!  We'll  build  houses,"  scoffed  Miles; 
he  would  have  blushed  to  own  that,  half  uncon- 
sciously, he,  too,  had  cherished  the  fancy  of  seeing 
on  the  New  England  shore  straggling  streets  and 
tiny  cottages,  as  in  old  Plymouth. 

"You'll  build  houses,  Miles?"  teased  his  sister. 

"Father  and  I  and  all  the  men,"  the  boy  bragged. 
"Build  them  of  great  logs.  Then  in  the  spring  will 
come  a  ship  with  horses  and  cows  and  sheep,  and 
.we'll  have  farms,  just  as  we  had  at  home." 

"  With  a  hedge  round  the  dooryard  ? "  Dolly 
questioned. 

"Yes,  and  meadow-land  and  ploughed  fields. 
We'll  have  all  in  order  when  the  frost  leaves  the 
ground,"  Miles  answered  confidently. 

Then  he  looked  up  at  his  mother,  and  was 
astonished  to  see  that  for  once  her  eyes  were  not 


44  Soldier  Rigdale 

on  her  children,  but  on  the  empty  shore  over  oppo- 
site. Her  face  was  wistful,  and  it  came  on  Miles 
that  perhaps  she  was  not  as  interested  in  the  farm 
concerns  as  he,  who  was  a  man,  so  he  said  quickly : 
"  And  you  can  have  a  garden  here,  mother,  full 
of  rosemary  and  daffadowndillies,  just  as  at  home. 
Maybe  you'll  not  have  to  labor  so  hard  here,"  he 
added  more  vaguely,  not  quite  understanding  her 
silence. 

She  smiled  a  little  then.  "  That's  a  good  lad, 
Miles,"  she  said,  putting  her  arm  about  his  shoul- 
ders ;  then  she  bade  him  go  to  his  mates  if  he  would, 
and  she  led  Dolly  back  to  the  cabin. 

Miles  stood  alone,  gazing  at  the  home-shore  and 
wondering  where  his  father's  farm  would  lie.  Still 
thinking  on  it,  he  was  turning  toward  the  hatchway, 
when  he  almost  ran  into  Goodman  Rigdale.  "  O 
father,"  Miles  broke  out  before  he  thought,  "  may 
I  not  go  with  you  when  we  begin  our  farm  ?  I'll 
conduct  me  well  and  be  obedient." 

He  stopped,  surprised  at  his  own  forwardness, 
and  he  was  more  surprised  when  his  father,  looking 
down  at  him  gravely,  said  without  chiding :  "  Our 
farm  ?  Ay,  Miles,  so  soon  as  there  is  work  to  do 
on  shore  you  shall  come  with  me  and  bear  a  hand." 


CHAPTER  IV 

HEWERS  OF  WOOD  AND  DRAWERS  OF  WATER 

«  f-T^O-MORROW    I    am     going    ashore." 
Uj         Thus   Miles    Rigdale    proclaimed,  from 
-■-       his   perch   on   the   bunk   in   his  father's 
cabin,  to  all  who  might  choose  to  hear. 

"  'Tis  the  forty  and  third  time  you've  said  that 
in  the  last  sennight,"  Ned  Lister  answered  dryly. 
He  was  lounging  in  the  cabin  door,  shirt-sleeved 
and  shivering,  while  Goodwife  Rigdale  repaired  his 
doublet ;  Mistress  Hopkins,  to  whom  the  task 
ordinarily  fell,  lay  ill,  and  her  stepdaughter,  Con- 
stance, was  so  busied  that,  to  relieve  her,  Alice 
Rigdale  had  taken  the  young  man  and  his  mending 
off  her  hands. 

"  Why  do  you  not  put  on  your  cloak,  if  you  be 
cold,  Ned  Lister  ?  "  Dolly  spoke  up. 

"  Because  'tis  too  much  labor  to  fetch  it,  Puss," 
Ned  answered,  whereat  Miles  laughed,  and  the 
Goodwife's  brows  puckered ;  another  might  have 
said  it  was  because  the  sewing  gave  her  trouble,  but 
Miles,  who  felt  uncomfortably  that  his  mother  dis- 
approved of  Ned  as  a  scatter-brained,  reckless  fellow, 
guessed  that  she  had  not  liked  that  last  speech. 

45 


46  Soldier  Rigdale 

He  was  sure  of  his  guess  when  she  hastened  to 
change  the  subject :  "  Does  it  still  rain  upon  deck, 
Edward  ? " 

"  Rain  and  naught  else ;  the  third  day  of  it  now, 
yet  by  the  look  it  might  pour  on  for  a  week." 

"  And  my  daddy's  yonder  in  the  wet  on  shore," 
murmured  Dolly,  pressing  close  against  her  mother's 
knee,  and  the  Goodwife  sewed  more  slowly,  with  her 
eyes  downcast. 

But  Miles  burst  into  lamentation  :  "  I  think  they 
might  'a'  taken  me  ashore.  Since  we  came  into 
Plymouth  Harbor  they've  explored  and  explored, 
and  never  suffered  me  to  come,  but  they  took  Giles 
Hopkins  with  them.  And  now  the  randevous  is 
built  on  shore,  and  some  of  the  men  are  staying 
there,  it  has  rained  and  rained  so  I  cannot  go  to 
them.  But  I'm  going  to-morrow,  the  very  next 
time  the  shallop  sails." 

"  To  be  sure  you  shall,"  Lister  answered,  as  he 
scrambled  into  his  mended  doublet.  "  I'll  take  you 
along  with  me." 

Then  he  swaggered  away  jauntily,  as  if  he  had 
promised  ample  service  in  return  for  his  mending, 
and  Goodwife  Rigdale,  with  a  bit  of  a  sigh,  said 
softly  to  Miles  :  "  'Tis  well  meant  of  Edward  Lister 
to  see  you  safe  ashore,  but  when  you  are  there,  re- 
member, you  are  to  stay  with  your  father,  not  go 
roving  with  him." 


Hewers  of  Wood  and  Drawers  of  Water     47 

Miles's  satisfaction  at  Ned's  offer  was  a  bit  tem- 
pered by  her  words,  but  he  lost  the  remembrance 
of  them  next  morning,  when  he  saw  the  sun  was  ris- 
ing clear  and  the  shallop  would  go  shoreward.  At 
once  he  clattered  down  to  the  cabin  to  get  his  cap 
and  mittens,  and  Trug,  who  must  go  with  him ; 
then  ran  up  on  deck  again,  where,  in  the  chill  sun- 
light, the  men  were  laboring  briskly  to  load  the 
shallop.  Miles  watched  them  while  they  put  in 
the  felling-axes  and  handsaws  and  hammers,  all  the 
tools  that  were  to  build  the  new  town  of  Plymouth, 
and  the  biscuit  and  salt  beef  and  pease  that  were  to 
form  the  workers'  rations. 

About  the  time  the  labor  was  ended,  Ned  saun- 
tered up  to  the  gangway,  and,  seeing  Miles,  very 
speedily  helped  him  clamber  down  the  ladder,  and 
made  Trug  leap  after  him.  Master  Isaac  Allerton, 
who  was  settled  comfortably  in  the  stern,  grumbled 
at  burdening  the  shallop  with  children  and  curs,  so 
Miles  put  his  arms  about  Trug,  and,  cuddling  down 
in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  made  himself  as  still  and 
small  as  possible  lest,  after  all,  the  company,  think- 
ing better  of  it,  bid  him  scramble  up  the  gangway 
ladder  again. 

But  the  time  for  that  was  past,  for  the  shallop, 
with  her  sail  hanging  sluggish,  had  crept  surely  out 
from  the  lee  of  the  Mayflower^  and  now,  catching  the 
light  breeze,  actually  stood  in  to  the  shore.    Miles  for- 


48  Soldier  Rigdale 

got  the  discomfort  of  his  seat  among  the  tools  while 
he  gazed  toward  the  approaching  coast  line,  where 
was  to  be  his  home.  Behind  him  the  sun  was  up, 
and  the  hills  that  rose  away  inland  from  the  harbor 
were  bright  in  the  cold,  yellow  radiance,  and  the 
water  and  the  sky  that  spread  about  him  were  both 
very  blue.  He  glanced  back  over  his  shoulder  at 
the  dreary  old  Mayflower^  and  was  surprised  to  find 
that,  as  the  sun  struck  athwart  her  patched  sails, 
even  she  was  beautiful. 

Then  the  movement  of  those  about  him,  and 
the  sound  of  waves  crunching  on  the  shingle,  made 
him  look  forward  again.  Under  the  shelter  of  a 
high  bluff,  where  a  great  boulder  ran  out  into  the 
water,  he  saw  those  standing  who  had  kept  the  ran- 
devous,  and  the  randevous  itself,  a  rude  hut  of 
boughs.  In  his  eagerness  Miles  jumped  up,  and 
Trug,  springing  up  too,  began  to  bark,  but  no  one 
took  note  or  scolded,  for  the  men  were  busied  in 
running  the  shallop  in  alongside  the  rock,  and  some, 
leaping  over  the  gunwale,  were  already  splashing 
through  the  shallow  water  to  the  beach. 

Ned  and  Giles  Hopkins  made  the  shore  thus, 
so  Miles  must  do  the  like,  and  came  to  land  all 
drenched  and  dripping.  But  it  was  land,  —  good, 
stable,  brown  earth,  not  the  hateful,  rolling  ship, — 
he  had  beneath  his  feet,  and,  in  the  delight  of  the 
long  unused  sensation,  he  forgot  he  was  wet  and 


Hewers  of  Wood  and  Drawers  of  Water     49 

chilled,  forgot  his  father  awaited  him,  and  there  was 
work  to  do.  He  knew  only  that  far  and  near  the 
shore  stretched  widely,  where  a  boy  could  run,  so, 
for  choice,  he  set  his  face  to  the  bluff  that  towered 
above  the  landing. 

Up  and  up,  through  the  keen,  dry  bushes,  that 
whipped  his  hands  and  face  so  he  laughed  in  the 
mere  delight  of  struggling  with  them,  he  fought  his 
way  till  he  came  breathless  to  the  bare  summit. 
All  about  him  dazzled  the  blue  of  the  harbor  and 
of  the  unclouded  sky,  and  yonder  on  his  right, 
through  its  fringe  of  bushes,  shone  the  blue  of  what 
seemed  a  cove.  Down  the  hill  rushed  Miles,  with 
Trug  leaping  and  barking  at  his  heels,  and  paused 
only  on  the  shore  of  a  great  brook,  that,  flowing 
out  between  steep  bluffs,  widened  into  the  sea. 

Another  was  before  him  there,  his  distant  kinsman, 
Giles  Hopkins,  who,  for  all  he  was  a  sober  lad  of  six- 
teen, was  a  good  comrade  to  the  younger  boy.  He 
now  bade  Miles  come  upstream  to  the  spring  the  men 
had  found  on  their  last  exploration,  and  Miles  very 
readily  followed  him  through  the  scrubby  under- 
growth, where  the  cove  narrowed  on  the  left  hand, 
and  on  the  right  a  high  bluff  kept  pace  with  the 
boys.  "  It's  on  that  bluff  they  mean  to  set  the 
houses,"  Giles  explained,  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Then  we'll  have  this  big  stream  in  our  door- 
yards,"  cried  Miles.  "Won't  that  be  brave?  I 
s 


$o  Soldier  Rigdalc 

shall  build  me  a  raft,  and  sail  to  those  wooded  hills 
on  the  other  side  whenever  I  choose.  Though, 
maybe,  Indians  dwell  there,"  he  added,  with  a  dubi- 
ous glance  at  Giles ;  he  did  not  wish  to  seem  afraid, 
but,  though  he  intended  to  be  a  soldier,  he  did  not 
purpose  to  fight  without  a  musket  and  a  long  sword, 
and  he  wondered  how  much  farther  from  the  shore 
his  leader  would  venture. 

But  speedily  his  wonder  had  an  end,  for,  break- 
ing through  a  thicket  of  leafless  alders,  Giles  halted 
at  a  little  cavity  within  the  sand  of  the  riverbank, 
where  the  spring  of  sweet  water  bubbled  up.  Down 
lay  Miles  on  the  turf,  and,  using  his  hand  for  a  cup, 
swallowed  his  first  draught  of  New  England  water. 
"  'Tis  better  than  the  brackish  stuff  we  have  on 
shipboard,"  he  said,  as  he  wiped  his  wet  hands  on 
his  wet  doublet. 

"  The  savages  must  have  known  the  spot,"  an- 
swered the  experienced  Giles.  "  We  found  this 
path  worn  down  hither  from  the  bluff,  and  see,  here 
is  a  line  of  stepping-stones  across  the  brook." 

Miles  glanced  about  him,  half  nervously,  lest 
along  the  path  or  across  the  stones  he  see  one  of 
their  former  savage  passengers  approaching.  He 
was  at  heart  relieved  when,  as  Giles  led  the  way  up 
the  bluff,  he  heard  in  the  distance  the  sound  of  an 
axe  crashing  on  a  tree  trunk.  Giles  did  not  turn 
toward  the  sound,  however,  but  went  plodding  on 


Hewers  of  Wood  and  Drawers  of  Water     51 

uphill,  for  above  the  bluff  a  second  summit  reared 
itself  steeply.  Miles  panted  in  his  trail,  endlessly 
upward,  it  seemed,  till  at  last  he  stood  exhausted 
on  a  lofty  hilltop,  whence,  far  as  the  sea  spread  out 
before  him,  he  beheld  the  wooded  uplands  roll  away 
to  westward. 

Giles  was  explaining  wisely  what  a  proper  place 
this  hill  was  for  a  fort,  and  how  Captain  Standish 
had  advised  the  company  mount  upon  it  guns,  which 
should  command  to  southward  the  spring,  and 
toward  the  harbor  the  landing  place  and  the  houses, 
which  were  to  be  built  along  the  river  bluff,  when 
Master  Hopkins  and  John  Rigdale,  tramping 
thither,  ended  their  sons'  holiday. 

"  Is  this  the  way  you  would  work,  Miles  ? " 
Goodman  Rigdale  asked  sternly,  and,  fearing  lest 
the  next  word  sentence  him  to  return  at  once  to 
the  Mayflower^  Miles  ran  eagerly  about  the  task 
they  set  him. 

All  day  he  tugged  chips  and  branches  for  the  fire 
at  the  randevous,  but  it  was  work  on  land,  in  the 
free  air,  where  a  boy  could  shout  as  much  as  he 
wished,  so  he  never  realized  he  was  weary  till  night 
came.  He  had  to  pack  off  to  the  ship  with  the 
other  boys  and  near  half  the  men,  but  he  had  no 
chance  to  grumble  at  this,  as  did  some  of  his  mates, 
for,  once  aboard  the  shallop,  he  leaned  against  Ned 
Lister  and  fell  half  asleep.     Only  when  the  shallop 


52  Soldier  Rigdale 

scraped  the  ship's  side  did  he  awake  to  stagger  up 
the  gangway  ladder  and  stumble  away  to  tell  Dolly 
and  his  mother  of  the  wonders  he  had  seen  ashore. 

Next  day,  being  Sunday,  no  work  was  done,  and 
the  next  day,  being  Christmas,  Miles,  who  remem- 
bered what  a  time  of  merrymaking  that  was  at  home, 
thought  he  must  idle  again.  But  here  on  Christ- 
mas, from  sunrise  to  sunset,  it  was  all  stern  work. 
"We  stain  this  virgin  soil  with  no  Popish  holydays," 
Master  Hopkins  said  grimly,  and,  though  the  rest 
did  not  exult  in  words,  they  labored  with  double 
fervor  to  show  they  did  no  honor  to  the  day. 

Miles  had  his  part  to  do  on  shore  that  Christ- 
mas and  in  the  days  that  followed,  though  it  was  a 
different  part  from  that  he  had  hoped  to  have. 
When  he  talked  to  his  mother  and  Dolly  of  build- 
ing cottages,  he  had  fancied  that  perhaps  he  would 
be  allowed  to  sit  high  up  on  a  ridgepole  and  drive 
nails.  He  knew  he  would  enjoy  doing  that,  but 
in  practice  he  was  set  less  pleasant  tasks :  he  ran 
errands,  not  only  for  his  father,  but  for  every  man 
who  chose  to  send  him ;  he  fetched  water  up  the 
steep  bluff  from  the  spring  to  the  workers ;  and  he 
carried  firewood  from  where  the  choppers  labored 
upon  the  bluff  to  where  the  first  house  was  build- 
ing. 

On  occasion  he  even  tended  the  fire  and  saw  that 
the  porridge  did  not  burn,  and  more  than  once  was 


Hewers  of  Wood  and  Drawers  of  Water     53 

sent  to  carry  a  portion  of  the  food  to  the  men  who, 
unable  to  rise  and  get  their  rations,  lay  ill  in  the 
half-built  log  cabins.  The  numbers  of  these  sick 
ever  multiplied,  for  the  close  quarters  and  bad  food 
aboard  the  Mayflower  had  caused  a  fever  to  break 
out  among  her  passengers,  and  the  exposure  to 
which  the  men  and  boys  often  recklessly  subjected 
themselves  increased  the  roll  of  the  ailing,  and,  at 
last,  of  the  dying. 

Miles  was  sorry,  of  course,  for  the  men  and 
women  who  sickened  and  died,  but  it  was  a  sorrow 
that  did  not  go  deep  enough  to  prevent  his  enjoy- 
ing the  open-air  life,  and  the  moments  of  play  that 
he  snatched  from  his  work.  For  death  had  not 
come  near  any  that  he  loved ;  Dolly  and  Jack 
Cooke  had  been  ill,  but  they  were  getting  better, 
and  none  of  his  other  near  acquaintances  had  been 
touched.  To  be  sure,  he  himself  went  sneezing 
with  a  great  cold,  but  it  meant  nothing,  any  more 
than  did  his  father's  cough ;  he  did  not  worry  for 
it  the  half  as  much  as  he  fretted  at  the  dull  routine 
labors  to  which  he  was  set. 

One  day  in  January  he  had  a  hand  in  more  ex- 
citing work,  for  Ned  Lister  and  Giles  Hopkins, 
who  were  going  to  cut  swamp  grass  for  thatch,  in- 
vited him  to  come  with  them,  and  Ned  even  let 
him  carry  his  sharp  sickle.  Ned  himself  turned  all 
his  effort  to  bearing  a  fowling  piece,  with  the  use 


54  Soldier  Rigdale 

of  which,  after  the  grass  was  cut,  he  had  been  bribed 
to  the  afternoon's  labor,  for  he  was  afflicted  with  a 
hard  cough  that  racked  him  most  piteously  when 
he  was  set  to  any  work  but  hunting. 

So  soon  as  they  reached  the  piece  of  marshy 
ground  in  the  deep  hollow  behind  the  first  range  of 
hills,  where  grew  the  grass  they  sought,  one  of  those 
coughing  fits  laid  hold  on  Ned.  He  really  wasn't 
fit  to  work,  he  said,  but,  when  Miles  volunteered 
to  do  the  task  for  him,  he  found  energy  to  direct 
the  boy's  clumsy  attempts  with  the  sickle. 

Two  bundles  of  grass  the  workers  were  ex- 
pected to  bring  home,  and  Giles  cut  his,  slowly 
and  soberly,  while  Ned  dallied  with  Miles,  till  he 
saw  his  companion  had  nearly  gathered  his  share. 
Then  Lister  snatched  the  sickle  from  Miles,  and, 
finishing  the  work  in  a  surprisingly  short  time  for 
a  sick  man,  caught  up  his  piece  with  the  excla- 
mation, "  Now  we'll  go  fowling." 

Leaving  the  sickles  and  the  bundles  of  grass 
where  they  lay,  the  three  picked  a  path  round  the 
verge  of  the  marsh  and  climbed  westward  over  the 
hills.  Last  of  all  Miles  trotted  along  bravely,  very 
proud  that  he  was  one  of  the  company,  and  full  of 
interest  at  passing  so  far  inland.  But  on  the  top 
of  the  second  long  hill,  Giles  suddenly  cried  out : 
"  Look  yonder.     Is  not  that  smoke  ?  " 

Against  the  dull  sky  to  the  west  Miles  saw  a 


Hewers  of  Wood  and  Drawers  of  Water     55 

little  fine  curl  of  gray,  and  the  question  was  on  his 
tongue's  end,  when  Ned  Lister  anticipated  it:  "No, 
it  can  be  none  of  our  people  so  far  from  the  shore. 
Savages,  maybe.     Say  we  go  down  and  see." 

Shouldering  his  fowling  piece,  he  set  out  jaunt- 
ily, and  the  two  boys  came  stoutly  after.  They 
scrambled  down  a  rough  hillslope  and  through 
another  level  piece,  all  open  and  stubbly,  westward 
still,  where  the  smoke  rose.  "  This  land  has  been 
cleared;  'tis  true  Indian  ground  here,"  Ned  spoke 
suddenly,  and  halted. 

Miles  stopped  short  five  paces  behind  his  com- 
rades. He  looked  to  the  hills  ahead,  where  the 
bare  branches  of  oak  trees  stood  out  clearly  against 
the  afternoon  sky.  It  was  a  lowering  sky,  and 
night  was  coming.  He  glanced  behind  him,  and 
saw  only  the  barren  wall  of  hills,  no  sign  of  the 
harbor  or  of  the  Mayflower.  Ned  and  Giles  were 
looking  at  each  other  with  a  something  so  dubious 
in  their  faces  that  Miles  felt  a  griping  sensation  in 
his  throat.  He  wondered  if  he  could  find  his  way 
back  as  he  had  come,  and,  doubting  it,  drew  close 
to  Ned,  who  had  the  fowling  piece. 

Ned  was  fiddling  with  the  lock  of  the  piece  and 
he  spoke  rather  sheepishly  :  "  I'm  not  afraid.  But 
I'm  not  going  to  run  into  Heaven  knows  what 
with  two  younkers  like  you  on  my  shoulders." 

"  Say  we  march  home,  then  ? "  Giles  suggested, 


56  Soldier  Rigdale 

and  straightway,  facing  round,  they  retraced  their 
steps  pretty  smartly. 

Miles  was  still  in  the  rear,  and,  as  he  went,  he 
studied  the  long  legs  of  his  companions  and 
thought  how  much  more  swiftly  they  could  run 
for  it,  if  anything  came  up  behind  them.  Think- 
ing so,  he  forgot  to  look  to  his  feet,  and,  as  they 
descended  a  gully,  fell  headlong  with  a  great  clatter- 
ing of  stones.  "  Wait  for  me ! "  he  cried,  in  a  sharp, 
high  voice  that  did  not  sound  natural. 

Ned  glanced  back,  with  his  face  tenser  than  its 
wont.  "  Here,  take  the  fowling  piece,  Giles,"  he 
said  curtly  ;  then,  returning  to  Miles,  he  lifted  him 
to  his  feet,  and,  keeping  one  hand  beneath  his  arm, 
helped  him  to  hurry  along. 

Thus  they  scurried  down  the  hillside  to  the 
swamp,  and,  catching  up  their  sickles  and  the 
thatch,  pressed  on  toward  the  settlement.  Not  till 
they  were  panting  up  the  landward  side  of  the  great 
hill  and  caught  the  faint  sound  of  hammers  in  the 
street  of  the  half-built  town,  did  Ned  suffer  the 
speed  to  slacken.  "  You'll  make  a  gallant  soldier 
one  day,  Miley,"  he  said  then,  and  began  laughing. 
"  Though  I  take  it  no  one  of  us  was  afraid ;  eh, 
boys  ? " 

They  all  agreed  they  were  not  in  the  least  fright- 
ened, and  some  such  version  Ned  must  have  reported 
to  Captain  Standish,  when  he  told  how  they  had  seen 


Hewers  of  Wood  and  Drawers  of  Water     57 

Indian  fires.  For  next  day  Miles  found  himself 
quite  a  hero  in  the  sight  of  the  other  lads,  because 
he  had  gone  far  into  the  woods  and  walked  boldly 
right  into  an  encampment  of  the  savages.  But 
Goodman  Rigdale  chided  his  son  sternly  for  such 
a  harebrained  prank,  and  after  that  made  the  boy 
stay  within  his  sight  while  he  was  on  shore. 

Miles  did  not  greatly  mind,  for  his  father  and 
Francis  Cooke,  the  father  of  his  playmate  Jack, 
were  now  engaged  in  a  delightful  work  in  which  he 
liked  to  help.  Lately  the  whole  company  of  the 
Mayflower  had  been  divided  into  nineteen  families, 
and  these  two  men,  who  had  been  placed  in  one 
household,  were  building  together  a  cottage,  high 
up  on  the  hillside.  His  father's  house,  Miles  in- 
sisted upon  calling  it,  though  Goodman  Rigdale 
was  at  pains  to  explain  to  him  that  the  cottage  be- 
longed not  to  any  one  man,  but  to  the  whole  com- 
pany ;  the  Pilgrims  at  Plymouth  and  the  merchants 
at  London,  who  had  advanced  the  money  for  the 
voyage,  were  to  hold  everything  in  common  till 
seven  years  were  up  and  then  divide  all  equally, 
and  till  then  no  man  could  call  a  house  his  own. 

Still,  Miles  knew  that  by  and  by  his  mother  and 
Dolly  and  Jack  Cooke  would  come  ashore,  as  other 
families  were  coming,  and  they  would  live  together 
in  that  house,  so  it  seemed  the  same  as  if  it  be- 
longed to  his  father.     He  looked  forward  to  the 


58  Soldier  Rigdale 

time  when  they  would  all  be  under  one  roof,  and 
he  would  be  suffered  to  sleep  ashore,  for,  though 
his  father  passed  his  nights  at  the  Common  House, 
there  was  no  room  for  Miles,  who  at  twilight  had 
to  journey  off  to  the  ship.  But  that  arrangement 
drew  speedily  to  an  end,  for  the  walls  of  the  house, 
built  of  squared  logs,  soon  rose  to  a  good  height ; 
the  chimney  of  sticks  and  clay  was  finished ;  and 
at  last  it  was  but  a  question  of  thatching  the  roof. 

Of  a  dull  afternoon  in  mid-January  Goodman 
Rigdale  set  out  to  cut  swamp  grass  for  the  thatch, 
and  took  with  him  Miles,  who  had  not  been  so  far 
afield  since  his  exploit  with  Ned  Lister.  They 
went  steadily  up  the  slope  on  the  shoulder  of  the 
great  hill,  and  there  Miles,  who  had  run  a  little 
ahead  with  Trug,  paused  to  look  back  proudly  at 
the  stanch,  new  cottage  below.  "  Those  are  brave 
big  logs  in  our  house,  are  they  not,  sir? "  he  broke 
out.     "  'Twill  last  us  a  many  years." 

"  That,  or  whatever  house  shall  fall  to  us  at  the 
division,  will  last  you  all  your  lifetime,"  Goodman 
Rigdale  answered  shortly.  "And  you  will  lease  it 
of  no  man.  You'll  hold  a  house  and  a  farm  of  your 
own  here  one  day,  Miles." 

They  tramped  on  a  time  in  silence,  and  Miles 
was  making  himself  sport  by  crushing  in  the  scum 
of  ice  on  the  pools  along  their  path,  when  his  father 
spoke  suddenly :  "  You're  in  a  fair  way  to  lead  an 


Hewers  of  Wood  and  Drawers  of  Water     59 

easier  life  than  your  father  or  your  grandfather  be- 
fore you,  Miles.  And  if  you  be  the  happier,  you 
should  be  so  much  the  better  man." 

"  Ay,  sir,"  Miles  answered  vaguely,  and  tipped 
back  his  head  to  watch  a  great  bird  that  went  flap- 
ping across  the  sky ;  he  wished  his  father  had 
brought  along  a  fowling  piece. 

When  they  came  to  the  swamp,  Goodman  Rig- 
dale  cut  down  the  grass  swiftly,  and  Miles  bundled 
it,  though  he  found  it  hard  to  keep  pace  with  his 
father.  Goodman  Rigdale,  being  in  haste,  must  at 
the  last  do  the  work  himself,  and,  while  he  bundled 
the  grass,  Miles,  remembering  the  stolen  pleasures 
of  his  last  thatching  trip,  picked  up  the  sickle  and 
tried  a  slash  or  two  on  his  own  account.  He  man- 
aged to  cut  his  hand,  and,  though  he  scarcely  felt 
the  pain,  because  the  hand  was  cold,  he  stared  in 
some  fright  when  he  saw  the  blood  come  streaking 
out. 

Goodman  Rigdale  gave  him  a  rag  to  tie  up  the 
hurt  hand,  and  also  gave  him  some  good  advice  on  the 
need  of  care  with  edged  tools,  which  Miles  did  not 
think  quite  called  for  just  then.  He  tried,  however, 
not  to  show  any  sign  of  pain,  because  that  always 
displeased  his  father  ;  and,  as  he  thought  he  had 
borne  himself  quite  bravely,  he  was  much  hurt,  when 
Goodman  Rigdale,  on  coming  down  into  the  settle- 
ment, said  :  "  Get  you  to  the  shallop  now,  Miles, 


60  Soldier  Rigdale 

and  bide  on  board  the  Mayflower  till  I  send  for  you. 
You'll  be  of  no  service  with  your  hand  cut.  May- 
hap you'll  be  better  off  with  your  mother,  too. 
After  all,  you  are  but  a  young  lad." 

"  As  you  bid,  sir,"  Miles  said,  respectfully,  but 
very  stiffly,  and  walked  away  down  the  path  to  the 
landing. 

Once  he  stopped  to  kick  a  stone  out  of  his  way, 
and  once,  before  he  rounded  the  base  of  the  bluff, 
something  made  him  face  about  and  look  back  to 
the  Common  House.  His  father  was  standing  by 
the  door,  watching  him,  and  Miles,  feeling  much 
rebuked,  walked  on  rapidly.  But  the  image  of  his 
father  remained  in  his  mind  very  clear. 


CHAPTER   V 


NEWS    FROM    THE    SHORE 


BECAUSE  Miles's  hand  was  hurt,  Goodwife 
Rigdale  made  much  of  him,  till  he  fairly 
resented  it,  for  he  had  grown  into  the  age 
where  he  was  sheepish  and  awkward  under  open 
petting.  He  soon  slipped  away  from  his  mother 
and  the  sympathetic  Dolly,  and  went  to  spend  his 
time  with  Jack  Cooke,  who,  during  the  day,  while 
his  father  worked  on  shore,  was  glad  of  compa  ly. 
The  boys  had  now  almost  room  enough  on  ship- 
board to  play  satisfactorily,  for  many  of  the  passen- 
gers had  gone  ashore ;  but  it  must  be  quiet  playing, 
for,  of  those  who  still  remained  in  their  cabins  not 
a  few  were  ill. 

Goodwife  Rigdale  was  busied  to  and  fro  in  caring 
fo*  the  sick  ones,  and,  at  her  bidding,  Miles  ran 
many  an  errand,  to  fetch  water  from  the  casks  on 
deck  or  heat  a  pot  of  broth  in  the  ship's  galley. 
But  their  joint  labor  soon  ended,  for,  a  few  days 
after  the  boy's  return  to  the  ship,  came  a  message 
from  Goodman  Rigdale :  he  was  just  touched  with 
the  fever,  he  said,  though  nothing  serious,  but  a 

61 


61  Soldier  Rigdale 

many  lay  sick  ashore,  and  the  Goodwife  could  aid 
them  as  well  as  himself;  Mistress  Brewster,  who, 
with  her  family,  had  gone  to  the  settlement,  had 
offered  to  shelter  her,  and  he  prayed  her  come. 

Next  morning  Goodwife  Rigdale  bundled  her 
cloak  about  her,  and  set  out  in  the  shallop.  Miles, 
standing  by  the  bulwark,  watched  her  go,  but  only 
for  a  time ;  it  had  snowed  the  night  before,  so  the 
railings  were  white  and  smooth  to  the  touch,  and  he 
found  it  of  more  absorbing  interest  to  poke  off 
strips  of  the  frozen  snow,  and  send  them  splashing 
into  the  cold-looking  water  beneath  the  ship's  side. 
By  the  time  he  looked  again  to  the  shallop,  it  was 
so  near  shore  he  could  no  longer  make  out  his 
mother's  figure,  and  his  feet  were  chilled  too,  so  he 
went  back  to  Dolly  in  the  cabin. 

At  first  he  found  it  manly  and  grown  up  to  be 
left  in  charge,  for  so  he  esteemed  his  position.  The 
cut  in  his  hand  was  healing  well,  and  he  felt  he 
would  have  been  working  ashore,  if  it  were  not  that 
some  one  must  mind  his  father's  quarters  on  ship- 
board and  care  for  Dolly  and  Solomon.  He  or- 
dered his  sister  about  in  a  paternal  manner ;  he 
rebuked  her  severely  if  she  so  much  as  showed  her 
small,  snub  nose  on  the  frosty  deck  without  wrap- 
ping herself  up  well ;  and  he  even  insisted  on  her 
going  to  bed  punctually  at  sundown,  while  he,  in 
the  glory  of  manhood,  waited  in  the  great  cabin  to 


News  from  the  Shore  63 

hear  what  news  those  who  came  from  the  shore 
would  bring. 

But  Dolly  took  her  turn  when  it  came  to  their 
daily  meals,  for  she  had  certain  deft,  housewifely 
ways,  which  Miles  could  not  hope  to  imitate,  and 
he  was  ashamed  even  of  trying  to  better  himself, 
after  he  heard  the  little  woman  speak  like  her 
mother  of  "  men  and  boys  that  set  a  body's  kitchen 
in  a  mash."  Miles  might  tug  out  the  pot  of  broth, 
— 'twas  all  he  was  fit  for ;  Goodwife  Dolly  would 
herself  do  the  stirring  and  tasting;  and  though, 
among  so  many  cooks,  the  broth  sometimes  burned, 
yet  they  always  contrived  to  eat  it. 

The  four  of  them  —  Miles,  Dolly,  Jack,  and 
Solomon  —  ate  their  food  together  in  the  Rigdales' 
cabin :  most  times  it  was  only  broth,  or  perhaps 
salted  meat  and  biscuit,  which  Goodwife  Rigdale, 
before  she  went  away,  had  laid  out  for  them  ;  but 
once  Goodman  Cooke  brought  them  from  the  shore 
a  large  piece  of  a  cold  roast  goose.  There  was  but 
one  drumstick,  and  each  felt  he  should  have  it,  — 
Jack  because  he  had  been  ill,  and  Dolly  because  she 
was  a  girl,  and  Miles  because  he  was  the  eldest. 
Solomon  said  nothing,  but  he  purred  his  loudest 
and  rubbed  his  head  against  Dolly's  knee.  They 
ended  by  eating  the  drumstick  together,  each  a  bite, 
turn  and  turn  about,  and  what  they  could  not  get 
from  the  bone  was  left  to  Solomon,  who  dragged 


64  Soldier  Rigdale 

his  ration  beneath  the  bunk,  and,  with  eyes  big  and 
fiery,  growled  at  them. 

The  children  remembered  that  supper,  not  only 
because  of  the  cold  goose,  but  because  it  was  the 
last  they  ate  together,  for  next  morning  Goodman 
Cooke  took  Jack  to  the  shore.  Miles  watched  his 
friend's  small  preparations  enviously,  and  Dolly, 
who  had  come  also  to  stand  in  the  doorway  of  the 
Cookes'  cabin,  voiced  a  sorrowful  wish  :  "  I  think 
I'd  best  go  too,  and  see  father  and  mother." 

"  They've  no  place  to  put  you,  lass,"  Goodman 
Cooke  explained.  "  So  soon  as  there  is  place, 
they'll  send  for  you  both,  be  sure.  For  Doctor 
Fuller  says  your  father  grows  heartier,  Miles,"  he 
went  on  ;  "  you've  no  need  to  worry  yourself." 

"  Indeed,  I  have  not  worried,"  Miles  answered, 
in  some  surprise. 

After  Jack  went,  life  on  shipboard  was  not  so 
pleasant.  Dolly  began  to  fret  for  her  mother  and 
scoff  at  Miles's  authority ;  Miles  grew  cross ;  and 
the  broth  burned  oftener  than  ever,  and  finally,  giv- 
ing out  altogether,  left  them  with  nothing  to  eat 
but  dry  biscuit.  With  this  woful  tale  of  starvation, 
Dolly  betook  herself  at  last  to  Constance  Hopkins 
in  the  great  cabin,  and  Miles,  glad  that  some  one 
should  make  known  their  unhappy  state,  yet 
ashamed  to  do  so  himself,  lagged  on  behind. 

Constance  Hopkins  was  Giles's  sister,  a  slip  of  a 


News  from  the  Shore  65 

lass,  not  three  years  older  than  Miles,  but  to  him 
she  seemed  quite  grown  up.  Certainly  she  bore 
the  responsibilities  of  age  in  those  days,  for  not 
only  must  she  nurse  her  stepmother,  Mistress  Eliza- 
beth Hopkins,  who  lay  helpless  in  her  cabin,  but  she 
must  care  for  the  baby,  Oceanus,  born  on  the  voyage 
across  the  sea,  and  the  little  half-sister,  Damaris, 
a  baby  also,  not  two  years  old.  Yet  somehow 
motherly  little  Constance  found  time  to  comfort 
Dolly,  and  cook  a  bit  of  meat  for  hungry  Miles, 
and  assure  them  both  that  their  father  and  mother 
surely  would  come  soon  to  look  to  them. 

Dolly  hugged  the  "  big  girl,"  but  Miles  could 
scarcely  do  that,  and  he  knew  no  civil  speech  to  tell 
his  gratitude,  so  he  was  glad  when,  his  eyes  falling 
on  Damaris,  he  thought  to  pick  her  up.  "  I'll 
mind  her  for  you  a  bit,  Constance,"  he  offered. 

Damaris  was  pleased  with  Miles's  tousled  hair 
and  sturdy  arms,  that  held  her  more  firmly  than 
her  half-sister  could ;  and  Miles,  never  guessing 
what  a  source  of  misfortune  her  liking  would  prove 
to  him  hereafter,  was  much  elated  at  his  success 
with  her.  He  tugged  baby  out  on  deck  to  show 
her  the  gulls  looking  for  food  in  the  water,  and  the 
bright  crusted  snow  that  sparkled  in  the  sunshine 
on  the  wooded  point.  Damaris  gurgled  appre- 
ciatively and  pulled  Miles's  hair ;  then,  when  he 
carried  her  back  into  the  cabin,  slept  like  a  kitten, 


66  Soldier  Rigdale 

whereat  Constance  was  so  relieved  and  pleased  that 
Miles  gladly  cared  for  the  baby,  his  baby,  the  next 
day,  and  the  next. 

But  the  third  day,  a  Friday,  a  pelting  fine  rain 
set  in  that  made  an  airing  on  the  deck  out  of  the 
question,  not  for  the  baby  alone,  but  for  a  well- 
grown  boy  and  girl.  Miles  and  Dolly  went  up  to 
spend  the  afternoon  in  the  great  cabin,  because  in 
their  own  quarters  there  was  no  one  to  talk  to,  and, 
moreover,  it  was  cold.  In  the  main  cabin  they 
would  find  some  one  to  keep  them  company,  and 
they  could,  at  least,  warm  their  hands  at  the  little 
fire  burning  in  a  tubful  of  sand,  which  Constance 
often  used  in  heating  food  for  Mistress  Hopkins. 

But  this  afternoon  the  fire  was  out  and  Constance 
busied  with  her  mother,  so  the  two  children,  disap- 
pointed, sat  down  together  on  a  rude  bench,  at  the 
angle  in  the  stern  where  two  rows  of  little  cabins 
joined.  "  I  wish  I  were  with  my  mother,"  sniffed 
Dolly ;  and  "  'Twill  do  you  no  good  to  cry,"  Miles 
checked  her  sternly. 

"I  was  not  crying,  Miles  Rigdale,"  the  damsel 
answered  hotly. 

It  was  on  Miles's  lips  to  reply,  when  close  at 
hand  a  voice  spoke  his  name,  "  Miles  Rigdale!" 

Readily  enough  he  jumped  up  and  went  to  the 
half-opened  door  of  the  adjoining  cabin.  It  was 
Captain  Standish's  cabin,  he  remembered  now,  and, 


"Dolly  plaited  a  fold  of  her  apron  between  her  fingers." 


News  from  the  Shore  67 

as  he  halted  in  the  doorway,  he  perceived  Mistress 
Rose  Standish  lying  in  the  bunk.  A  little  of  the 
afternoon  light  sifted  in  through  the  tiny  port-hole, 
and  by  it  he  noted  how  her  hair  fell  loosely  about 
her  face,  unlike  the  way  she  wore  it  when  on  deck ; 
but  her  cheeks  were  rosy  as  ever,  and  her  voice 
quite  steady  as  she  spoke:  "It's  you,  the  lad  my 
husband  told  me  of?  I  thought  I  heard  one 
call  you  by  name.  Will  you  not  do  somewhat  for 
me,  Miles  ?  Fetch  me  my  jug  here  full  of  water 
again.  Goodwife  Tinker  was  to  look  to  me  to- 
day ;  I  felt  very  well  this  morning.  But  she's  ill 
now  herself,  and  when  I  tried  to  rise, — "  she  laughed, 
with  a  nervous  catch  in  her  laughter,  —  "  why,  then 
things  went  whisking  round  me  very  strangely.  But 
you  look  as  you  still  could  stand  stoutly,  sir." 

"  I'll  fetch  you  the  water,  and  gladly,  mistress," 
Miles  answered,  so  eagerly  that  he  stammered.  He 
stepped  into  the  cabin  to  take  the  jug  from  where  it 
rested  on  a  chest  beneath  the  port-hole,  and  Dolly, 
following  shyly  after,  hesitated  on  the  threshold. 

"Is  this  little  maid  your  sister?"  Mistress  Stan- 
dish  roused  up  to  ask.  "  Won't  you  come  in  and 
bear  me  company,  sweetheart,  while  Miles  fetches 
the  water  ? " 

Dolly  plaited  a  fold  of  her  apron  between  her 
fingers  and  nodded  dumbly. 

"  That's  well,"  said  Mistress  Standish.    "  Sit  you 


68  Soldier  Rigdale 

down  here  on  the  chest  by  me.     And  I've  some 
raisins  of  the  sun  you  shall  have  if  you'll  stay." 

"  Dolly  must  not  eat  your  raisins  if  you  be  sick." 
Miles  formulated  the  relentless  principle  which  had 
been  enforced  as  regards  himself  when  Dolly  lay  ill. 
"  And  I'll  fetch  the  water  speedily."  He  stood  a 
moment  on  the  threshold,  balancing  the  jug  in  one 
hand.  "  Mistress  Standish,"  he  blurted  out,  with 
sudden  resolution,  "would  you  not  rather  have  beer 
than  water  ?  " 

"  Than  the  water  from  the  ship's  casks,  yes,"  she  I 
answered;  "  but  'twill  relish  well  enough,  Miles.    At 
even,  when  Captain  Standish  comes,  mayhap  he'll 
get  me  a  draught  of  beer." 

"  I'll  get  it  for  you  now,"  Miles  said  cheerily, 
and  walked  away,  with  his  head  up  and  the  jug 
swinging. 

Outside  the  door  of  the  great  cabin  the  chilly 
rain,  that  stung  finely  on  his  cheeks,  pricked  him 
alive  to  realization  of  what  he  had  undertaken. 
Since  Christmas,  when  the  supply  of  the  Pilgrim 
emigrants  had  given  out,  beer  could  be  obtained 
on  board  the  Mayflower  only  from  the  ship's  stores,  • 
through  the  courtesy  of  Master  Jones,  the  captain  ; 
and  he  was  a  terrible  person.  Most  times  he  ] 
ranged  about  the  high  quarter-deck,  where  only  the 
chiefs  of  the  Pilgrims  dared  go ;  once  Francis 
Billington,    to    show    his    daring,    had    clambered 


News  from  the  Shore  69 

thither,  and  Master  Jones,  without  parley,  had  bid- 
den his  quartermaster,  "  Kick  that  young  imp  down 
into  Limbo,  where  he  belongs."  From  that  experi- 
ence Francis  had  been  black  and  blue,  and  subdued 
in  manner  for  a  week. 

So  it  was  no  wonder  now  that,  for  long  minutes, 
Miles  stood  shivering  in  the  rain  at  the  foot  of  the 
companion  ladder,  while  he  tried  to  summon  cour- 
age to  venture  up.  He  might  never  have  arrived 
at  such  hardihood,  had  not  Jones  himself,  strolling 
forth  upon  the  quarter-deck  to  study  the  weather, 
observed  him,  and  presently  bellowed  lustily  :  "What 
beest  thou  staring  up  hither  for,  hey  ?  " 

"I  —  I  want  to  come  up,  if  it  like  you,  sir," 
Miles  piped  quaveringly. 

"  Then  come  up.  Beelzebub  fetch  thee  !  What's 
hindering  thee  ?  " 

Miles  could  have  answered  truly  that  it  was  a 
loud-voiced,  broad-shouldered  man,  with  a  bushy 
gray  beard,  whose  name  was  Jones,  that  hindered 
him ;  but  he  thought  best,  even  on  so  poor  an  in- 
vitation, to  scramble  in  silence  up  the  steep  ladder 
to  the  quarter-deck.  The  wind  there  was  high,  so 
he  gripped  the  bulwark  to  keep  erect. 

"  Well,  now  thou  art  up,  what  is  it  thou  wouldst 
have  ?  "  roared  Jones. 

"  Beer,  sir.  For  Captain  Standish's  wife.  She 
is  ill." 


70  Soldier  Rigdale 

Master  Jones  hesitated  a  little  minute,  then 
caught  Miles  by  the  collar  of  his  doublet,  and  only 
let  go  when  he  landed  him  within  the  roundhouse. 
Miles  said  nothing  to  this,  but  his  heart  thumped 
alarmingly  at  finding  himself  thus  tumbled  head- 
long into  the  very  lair  of  the  Master.  Yet  the 
roundhouse  proved  a  harmless  place,  with  its  ship- 
shape bunks  and  table  and  stools ;  and  one  of  the 
mates,  who  lay  upon  a  bunk,  rose  up  at  Jones's 
bidding,  to  do  nothing  more  formidable  than  fill 
Miles's  jug  from  a  keg  that  stood  in  one  corner. 

"  Now  see  to  it  thou  dost  not  filch  the  beer  by 
the  way,"  grumbled  Master  Jones.  "  I  be  ready 
to  give  to  your  Captain's  wife,  but  not  to  fill  the 
stomach  of  every  knavish  lad  on  shipboard ;  dost 
thou  hear  ? " 

"  I  wouldn't  take  the  beer  that  was  meant  for 
Mistress  Standish,"  Miles  said  indignantly. 

"  Nay,  but  boys  be  a  slippery  race,"  growled  the 
Master.     "  The  saints  be  blest  I  never  had  none  !  " 

Miles  privately  was  glad  of  that,  for  he  could  not 
help  thinking  how  unhappy  a  boy  would  be,  with 
such  an  alarming  father  as  Master  Jones.  Very 
prudently,  he  did  not  say  so,  but,  seizing  his  jug, 
backed  out  of  the  roundhouse,  almost  too  hastily 
to  say  "Thank  you." 

He  had  come  back  to  a  good  conceit  of  himself, 
however,   by   the  time   he    had   manoeuvred   safely 


News  from  the  Shore  71 

down  the  ticklish  ladder,  and  he  walked  in  on  Mis- 
tress Standish  and  Dolly  quite  proudly.  Mistress 
Standish  thanked  him  mightily,  enough  to  make 
Miles  redden  and  shuffle  his  foot  on  the  floor. 
I  But  I  liked  to  do  it  for  you,"  he  muttered. 

After  that  he  was  persuaded  to  sit  down  on  the 
chest  beside  Dolly,  and  tell  Mistress  Standish  all 
about  how  they  were  building  houses  on  the  shore, 
and  how  he  had  gone  to  the  Indian  fields,  and  what 
a  wonderful  dog  Trug  was.  Dolly  chimed  in  there 
to  tell  what  a  rare  pussy  Solomon  was,  and  how  he 
would  leap  over  your  hands.  Then  Mistress  Stan- 
dish, who  lay  listening,  and  seemed  to  like  their  talk, 
though  she  said  little,  bade  Miles  bring  her  a  box 
from  a  shelf  against  the  wall,  and  in  it,  sure  enough, 
were  a  few  big  raisins  and  a  small  handful  of  cur- 
rants. 

The  sight  was  too  much  for  Miles's  scruples, 
and  when  she  urged  the  children  eat  of  them,  he 
yielded,  weakly  as  eager  little  Dolly.  "  We'll 
take  two  raisins  each,"  he  said,  with  an  effort  at 
firmness,  "and  three  currants."  Then,  with  a  sigh, 
he  shut  the  box  up  tight,  and  ate  his  own  share  very 
slowly. 

Dolly  finished  more  speedily,  and  straightway 
Mistress  Standish  urged  her  sing  to  them.  "  Dolly 
told  me  while  you  were  gone  that  she  is  wont  to 
sing  to  mother,"  she  explained  to   Miles.     "  Now 


72  Soldier  Rigdale 

I  want  her  to  sing  to  me.  You  shall  have  more 
raisins  if  you  will,  Dolly,  in  spite  of  Brother  Miles." 

Dolly  was  bashful,  and,  for  all  it  was  now  murky 
twilight,  so  faces  were  not  plain  to  see,  insisted  on 
sitting  on  the  other  side  of  Miles,  where  she  could 
hide  behind  him.  Then,  at  last,  she  sang.  "  Though 
it  is  a  worldly  song,"  she  protested. 

"  No  matter.  I  am  what  your  people  call  a 
worldly  woman,"  Mistress  Standish  answered. 

So  Dolly  cuddled  up  to  Miles  and  sang :  — 

"  Skip  and  trip  it, 
Hey  non  nonny  ! 
For  the  lark  is  in  the  clover, 
And  the  fields  are  green  and  bonny, 
And  a  dappled  sky  shows  over. 
Sing  hey  nonny  nonny  ! 
'Tis  blithe  world  and  gay, 
When  spring  comes  bonny 
And  the  winter  packs  away." 

There  Dolly  broke  off,  short  and  sudden,  and 
Miles,  looking  to  the  dusky  doorway,  saw  a  man's 
sturdy  figure  blocking  it. 

"  'Tis  you  come  back,  Miles  ?  "  Mistress  Standish 
spoke  quickly.  "  Come  you  in  and  sit  down.  Your 
namesake  and  his  sister  have  been  caring  for  me 
bravely  —  " 

"  I'm  sorry,"  came  the  Captain's  voice  out  of  the 
dark.     "That  is —     You   must    be  wearied    now, 


News  from  the  Shore  73 

sweetheart.  Come,  Miles,  my  soldier,  I  want  to 
speak  with  you." 

Miles  wondered  why,  as  he  stepped  out  from  the 
cabin,  the  Captain  troubled  to  put  one  arm  about 
his  shoulders ;  he  was  pleased  at  the  caress,  yet 
awkward  in  receiving  it.  "  I  want  you  to  go  in 
here,"  said  Captain  Standish,  leading  him  to  the 
cabin  that  the  Brewsters  had  occupied.  "  Constance 
Hopkins  is  waiting  within  to  tell  you  somewhat. 
And  you  must  remember,  Miles,  that  you  are  to 
bear  you  like  a  man." 

Miles  wrested  round  suddenly  and  faced  the 
Captain.  There  was  a  little  dim  lantern  light  in 
this  part  of  the  great  cabin,  not  enough  for  him 
to  read  the  other's  face,  but  he  could  guess  and 
feel  what  was  coming.  "  Has  anything  gone  wrong 
with  my  mother  ?  Tell  me ;  tell  me,  quick  ! "  he 
cried. 

"  Not  your  mother,  Miles.     Your  father." 


CHAPTER   VI 


THE    GOING    LANDWARD 


GOODMAN  RIGDALE  had  died  that  day 
at  noon ;  he  had  seemed  sure  of  recovery, 
but  there  came  a  sudden  change,  and,  with 
the  ebbing  of  the  tide,  his  life  went  out.  So  much 
they  made  Miles  understand,  gently  as  they  could.! 
Dolly  cried  with  choked  sobbings,  and  Constance 
Hopkins,  who  had  come  out  and  taken  the  little 
girl  in  her  arms,  cried  too.  But  Miles,  who  sat 
apart  from  the  others,  astride  one  of  the  benches, 
did  not  cry, — just  scowled  before  him  in  stupid 
fashion,  and  half  snarled,  "Don't  touch  me,"  at 
Goodwife  Tinker  and  the  other  women  who  had 
hastened  up  to  sympathize. 

He  was  aware  of  the  people  about  him  and  the 
lantern  light ;  that  was  all.  Something  inside  him 
seemed  benumbed,  and  he  did  not  care  to  talk,  or 
cry,  or  do  aught  but  sit  still.  He  listened  to; 
Dolly ;  she  was  wailing  now,  "  I  want  my  mother. . 
Oh,  take  me  to  my  mother ! "  He  wished  she 
would  hush  ;  it  worried  him. 

Then   he   heard  some  one  else  speak :    "  Look 
you,  Captain ;  Will  Trevor  and  I  are  fresh  enough 

74 


The  Going  Landward  75 

to  do  't,  and  there's  the  small  boat  belongs  to  the 
shallop.  And  Rigdale's  goodwife  will  be  wanting 
her  bairns  to-night.  If  you  give  the  word,  Will 
and  I,  we'll  row  them  ashore." 

Miles  looked  up  and  saw  Ned  Lister,  his  cap  on 
straight  and  his  face  earnest,  speaking  with  the 
Captain.  He  rose,  and,  a  little  unsteadily,  pushed 
the  women  aside,  so  he  could  clutch  Ned's  arm. 
i  I  want  to  go  ashore,"  he  whispered  chokedly. 
I  Take  me  now." 

"You  shall  go,"  said  Captain  Standish.  "I'll 
bid  them  make  ready  the  boat." 

"  You  and  the  little  wench  get  on  your  cloaks 
briskly,"  Ned  admonished,  as  he  turned  to  follow 
the  Captain.     "  We'll  be  ready  ere  you  be." 

Constance  came  down  with  the  two  children  to 
the  cabin  beneath  the  main  deck.  It  seemed  darker 
and  colder  than  ever  before,  and  Dolly's  cloak 
strings  were  tied  in  a  hard  knot,  and  Miles  could 
not  find  his  mittens.  At  the  very  last,  as,  in  stupid 
fashion,  he  searched  for  them  a  third  time  in  a  bag 
that  held  some  odds  and  ends  of  his  mother's,  he 
heard  Dolly  cry,  "Oh,  Solomon,  poor  Solomon! 
Don't  leave  him  behind,  Miles.  I  know  they'll 
not  tend  him.     And  daddy  was  fond  of  him." 

The  cat  was  dozing  among  the  blankets,  but  when 
Miles,  slow  and  uncomprehending,  tried  to  seize 
him,  he  took  fright  and  ran  beneath  the  bunk. 


76  Soldier  Rigdale 

"  We've  the  boat  ready.  Quickly,  Miles ! "  called 
Ned  Lister  in  the  passageway. 

Miles  saw  Solomon's  eyes  shining  yellow  in  the 
dark  beneath  the  bunk,  and,  making  a  grab,  he 
clutched  the  cat.  The  creature  spit  and  clawed,  but 
Miles,  with  his  hands  bleeding,  still  clung  to  him, 
and,  headlong,  thrust  him  into  the  bag  that  had  held 
their  biscuit.  One  white  paw  came  struggling  out, 
but  the  boy  shoved  it  in  roughly,  and  drew  the 
strings  tight. 

"Wait,  wait!  Your  cloak,  Miles."  Constance 
detained  him,  and  fastened  his  cloak  about  his  neck. 
Miles  suffered  her,  like  a  very  little  boy,  and  then, 
slinging  Solomon's  bag  over  one  shoulder,  he  fol- 
lowed Dolly  up  on  deck. 

The  rain,  pelting  on  his  cheeks  and  forehead, 
half  blinded  him,  and  the  faces  of  the  men,  seen  fit- 
fully beneath  the  flaring  light  of  the  lantern  at  the 
gangway,  looked  strange  to  him.  Their  voices  had 
no  meaning,  and  they  must  repeat  the  question 
when  one  asked  :  "  What  have  you  there,  Miles  ? 
Give  me  the  bag  ;  I'll  hand  it  you." 

Miles  shook  his  head  and  pressed  the  bag  tighter  I 
beneath  his  arm  ;  he  could  feel  the  cat's  soft  body 
writhing  and  struggling  within.  They  brought  him 
over  to  the  gangway  ladder,  and,  holding  by  one 
hand,  he  scrambled  down  it.  How  black  the  line 
of  bulwarks  looked  against  the  lantern  light,  as  the 


The  Going   Landward  77 

ship  heaved  upward  !  There  he  half  slipped,  when 
he  felt  some  one  catch  him  round  the  body,  and 
he  was  dropped  down  on  the  stern  seat  of  the  little 
boat.  Dolly  pressed  close  to  him,  and,  putting  his 
arm  round  her,  he  held  tight  to  her  and  to  Solomon. 
They  had  turned  the  lantern  now  so  the  light  flashed 
into  the  boat,  and  he  realized  it  was  Lister  who  sat 
upon  the  forward  thwart,  and  the  other  man,  who 
was  standing  up  to  push  them  off  from  the  ship's 
side,  was  the  sailor,  Will  Trevor. 

At  last  they  were  clear,  out  on  the  wide,  rough 
water,  and,  with  a  motion  of  spitting  on  his  hands, 
Trevor  dropped  into  his  seat  and  gripped  his  oar. 
As  the  boat  swung  round,  Miles  had  sight  of  the 
black  bulk  of  the  Mayflower^  with  a  lantern  gleam- 
ing on  her  high  quarter-deck  and  another  just  re- 
ceding from  her  gangway.  Then,  as  the  boat  headed 
for  the  shore,  he  could  see  the  ship  only  by  turning 
his  head,  and  that  was  too  great  an  effort  to  make. 

The  thole-pins  creaked,  and  the  water  slapped 
against  the  prow.  The  waves  were  running  high, 
and,  as  the  little  boat  leaped  them,  she  seemed  to 
throb  through  her  frame.  The  oars  and  the  sea  that 
wrestled  together  made  the  only  sound,  for  the  rain 
that  dropped  steadily  was  a  quiet  rain,  and  the  men 
who  rowed  for  the  most  part  kept  silent.  Once,  to 
be  sure,  Trevor  growled :  "  How're  we  heading, 
Ned  ? " 


78  Soldier  Rigdale 

Miles  noted  dully  how  Lister  rested  on  his  oar 
and  turned  his  face  landward.  "  I  can  just  make 
out  a  light,"  he  answered.  "  Pest  on  this  rain  ! 
More  to  larboard  we  must  run." 

For  another  space  they  tugged  at  the  oars  in 
silence,  while  Miles  stared  unheedingly  into  the 
dark,  till  suddenly  Trevor  called,  "  Hey,  lad,  what's 
wrong  wi'  thy  bag  ? " 

Solomon's  struggles  had  loosed  the  fastenings, 
Miles  found  ;  he  thrust  the  animal  back  and  tied  the 
strings  again,  slowly  and  stiffly,  for  his  hands  were 
cold  and  sore  too,  where  they  had  been  scratched. 

"  What  sort  o'  luggage  be  ye  travelling  with  ?  " 
Trevor  asked,  between  strokes,  in  a  tone  that  was 
so  amused  that  Miles  felt  an  angry  shock :  what 
right  had  the  sailor  to  find  any  merriment  in  life, 
while  Dolly  was  sobbing  so  ?  Next  moment  the 
anger  passed,  and  instead,  Miles  wondered  that 
Dolly  should  cry,  for  it  was  not  true,  whatever  they 
had  said ;  his  father  would  surely  come  forth  from 
the  Common  House  to  meet  them,  and  he  would 
look  just  as  Miles  had  seen  him  on  that  last  day 

Yonder  beneath  the  black  bluff  shone  a  light 
Miles  could  see  it  now,  and  he  stared  unthinkingly 
till  it  grew  larger  and  brighter,  and  then  a  sudden 
jar  almost  threw  him  from  his  seat.  "  I'll  hold  her 
steady,"  spoke  Trevor.  "  Do  thou  get  out  the 
younkers,  Ned." 


; 


The  Going  Landward  79 

"  Come,  come,  Miley,  are  you  asleep  ? "  said 
Lister.  Miles  saw  him  kneeling  on  the  rock  close 
beside  him,  holding  the  boat's  gunwale  with  one 
hand,  and  with  the  other  outstretched.  "  Give  me 
the  bag.  Now  then,  steady.  Ah  !  You  did  your- 
self hurt  ? " 

Miles  picked  himself  up  from  the  rock  where  he 
had  fallen ;  his  knees  were  aching,  and  he  suddenly 
felt  he  should  like  to  cry.  "  Yes,  I  hurt  me,"  he 
said  dazedly.     "  Give  me  Solomon." 

He  made  his  way,  groping  through  the  dark,  to 
the  path  beneath  the  bluff  that  led  up  to  the  settle- 
ment. The  ground  had  thawed,  so  broad  puddles 
had  formed ;  he  must  have  splashed  into  one,  for, 
as  he  stepped,  his  shoes  squeaked  with  water.  Ned 
Lister  strode  up  alongside  him,  with  Dolly  gathered 
in  his  arms.  "  You  come  with  me  up  to  the  Elder's 
house,  Miley,"  he  said  breathlessly,  for  Ned  was 
wiry,  rather  than  robust,  and  Dolly  was  a  heavy  little 
maid. 

All  the  way  up  the  hill  Miles  had  a  sickening 
sense  of  awaking  to  something  full  of  dread.  The 
ground  and  the  sky  and  the  dimly  seen  houses  were 
now  all  real ;  he  felt  the  rain  and  the  cold  and  the 
weight  of  the  bag  on  his  arm,  and  he  began  to  realize 
that  what  had  happened  also  was  no  dream. 

"  Oh ! "  he  cried,  with  a  sudden  hard  gasp,  and, 
dropping  the  bag,  broke  into  a  run.     He  stumbled 


8o  Soldier  Rigdale 

and  slipped,  but  pantingly  he  held  on  till  he  reached 
the  Brewsters'  cottage.  From  one  of  the  tiny  win- 
dows a  light  shone  forth,  but  it  blinded  without  aid- 
ing him.  He  fumbled  a  moment  at  the  heavy  door, 
then,  grasping  the  rude  latch  at  last,  thrust  it  open 
with  his  shoulder,  and  plunged  headlong  into  the 
common  room. 

On  the  hearth,  opposite  the  door,  a  fire  blazed, 
and  on  the  table  flickered  a  candle.  Spite  of  the 
dazzle  of  sudden  light,  Miles  made  out  a  woman, 
just  turning  from  the  fire,  and,  knowing  her  for  the 
Elder's  wife,  ran  to  her.  "  Where's  my  mother,  my 
mother  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  Hush,  hush,  Miles  !  You  must  quiet  yourself 
ere  you  see  her,"  Mistress  Brewster  urged,  never  so 
gently. 

But  there  came  from  an  adjoining  room  his 
mother's  voice  :    "  Miles,  I  am  here.     Come  to  me." 

The  narrow  chamber  was  dark,  but,  seated  in  the 
far  corner,  he  could  distinguish  a  woman's  bowed 
figure,  and,  stumbling  heavily  across  the  floor,  he 
flung  himself  on  his  knees  beside  her.  "  Mother ! 
Oh,  mother  !  "  he  choked,  and,  burying  his  face  in  her 
lap,  burst  out  crying. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE    MAN    OF    THE    FAMILY 

AT  first  Miles  found  a  jarring  unfitness  in 
everyday  life.  Only  eight  and  forty  hours 
"  before,  they  had  buried  his  father  on  the 
bluff  overlooking  the  harbor;  they  had  read  no 
prayers  over  the  dead,  as  the  ministers  did  in  Eng- 
land, and,  lest  the  savages  should  spy  and  note  how 
few  the  colonists  were  becoming,  they  had  levelled 
the  grave,  like  the  many  round  about  it.  A  raw 
wind  had  blown  from  off  the  sea,  so  Goodwife  Rig- 
dale  shivered  as  she  stood  by  the  grave,  and  Miles's 
hands  were  senseless  with  the  cold. 

Now  it  was  over,  and  Goodman  Rigdale  dead  and 
buried,  but  life  went  on,  just  as  usual.  Goodwife 
Rigdale  helped  Mistress  Brewster  prepare  food,  and 
ate  of  it  herself;  and  Love  and  Wrestling,  sorry 
though  they  had  been  for  their  playmates'  sorrow, 
frolicked  gayly  with  Solomon,  whom  Ned  Lister 
had  brought  to  the  cottage,  bag  and  all.  By  the 
second  day,  though  her  eyes  were  still  heavy  with 
crying,  and  her  mouth  tremulous,  Dolly  plucked  up 
spirit  to  join  the  boys.      Even   earlier,  Miles  had 

G  81 


82  Soldier  Rigdale 

begun  to  fetch  wood  and  water  for  Mistress  Brews- 
ter, lay  the  fire,  and  help  where  he  could ;  if  only 
everything  had  stopped  for  a  time,  till  he  could 
realize  what  had  happened  and  master  himself,  he 
felt  he  could  bear  it ;  but  the  petty  acts  of  living 
would  go  on. 

In  such  a  mood  of  wretchedness  he  trudged  forth 
on  the  third  morning,  up  the  path  beyond  the  spring, 
to  fetch  sticks  from  the  edge  of  the  wood  where  the 
trees  had  been  felled.  He  gathered  the  fagots, 
and  was  trying  to  tie  them  strongly,  as  his  father 
tied  the  swamp  grass  that  last  day  they  worked  to- 
gether, when  he  saw  Francis  Billington,  also  in 
search  of  wood,  drawing  near. 

"  Why,  Miles  !  "  the  newcomer  greeted  him, 
in  some  surprise,  for  in  these  days  Miles  avoided 
his  old  comrades.  But  now  there  was  no  avoiding 
till  the  wood  was  tied  up,  so  Francis  came  to  him 
and,  a  bit  awed,  tried  clumsily  to  be  sympathetic. 
"  I'll  help  you  tie  that  wood,  Miles." 

"  I  c'n  do  't  alone." 

"  Look  you,  my  daddy's  going  fowling  to-day. 
Mayhap  he'll  take  us." 

"  I  don't  want  to  go,"  snapped  Miles,  with  a 
sick  sort  of  anger  that  other  boys  still  could  talk  of 
their  fathers. 

"  You  might  at  least  be  civil  to  a  body,"  Francis 
said  rather  huffily.     "  What  need  to  carry  such  a 


The  Man  of  the  Family  83 

face  for  it,  Miles  ?  You  were  mortal  afeard  of  your 
father  while  he  lived.  And  now  he  can  never  flog 
you  no  more." 

Without  warning,  other  than  a  small  catching  of 
the  breath,  Miles  sprang  to  his  feet  and  struck  the 
speaker  in  the  face.  Francis,  thoroughly  surprised, 
hit  back,  and,  clenching,  they  pitched  over  among 
the  crackling  sticks.  Miles  fell  uppermost,  and, 
hardly  realizing  how  or  why,  he  was  pommelling 
Francis  lustily,  when  a  mighty  hand  heaved  him 
up  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck.  "You  must  not 
strike  a  man  when  he  is  already  worsted,"  spoke 
the  voice  of  long-legged  John  Alden. 

Miles  stood  biting  his  lips  that  twitched.  "  '  A ' 
shall  not  say  —  "  he  began,  and  there  his  voice  broke. 
"  Oh,  I  wish  he  could  flog  me  again  !  " 

Alden  stared  a  moment,  then,  with  sudden  under- 
standing, swung  round  upon  the  whimpering  Francis 
and  rated  him  mightily,  while  Miles,  glad  not  to  be 
noticed,  caught  up  his  bundle  of  wood  and  stumbled 
away  toward  the  settlement. 

Yet  this  was  the  last  outward  showing  of  the 
boy's  grief.  Little  by  little,  as  the  busy  days  came, 
he  found  himself  fitting  into  his  new  life,  and  at 
length  even  taking  a  certain  zest  in  it.  For  he 
was  now  man  of  the  family,  and  the  cares  he  felt 
called  on  to  shoulder  did  not  a  little  to  distract  him 
from  any  sorry  broodings.      He  must  work  with 


84  Soldier  Rigdale 

his  full  strength,  wherever  they  sent  him  and  who- 
ever bade  him  ;  he  must  keep  flibbertigibbet  Dolly 
out  of  mischief;  above  all,  he  must  run  after  his 
mother,  as  she  went  about  to  nurse  the  many  sick 
of  the  settlement,  and  see  to  it  that  she  did  not  catch 
cold  or  come  to  any  harm. 

The  greatest  and  most  important  labor,  however, 
he  did  in  the  earlier  days  of  his  loss,  when  he  went 
to  fetch  his  father's  goods  from  the  Mayflower. 
Others  might  have  said  the  work  was  done  by  Ned 
Lister,  for  Master  Hopkins,  who  had  promised 
Goodman  Rigdale  to  look  to  his  family,  so  far  as 
he  was  able,  sent  him  about  this  task ;  but  Miles, 
who  was  sure  he  was  the  leader  and  Ned  only  the 
assistant,  felt  the  whole  expedition  a  tribute  to  his 
own  new-come  manliness. 

They  went  out  in  the  shallop  to  the  Mayflower 
on  a  morning  so  bright  and  open  that  it  scarcely 
recalled  to  Miles  his  coming  from  the  ship.  Once 
aboard,  to  be  sure,  the  half-homesick  pang  laid 
hold  on  him,  when  he  scrambled  down  to  the  little 
cabin  that  had  sheltered  him  so  long ;  but  there 
was  so  much  to  do  he  soon  cast  it  off.  The 
bedding  must  be  tied  up  securely,  and  the  pots 
and  platters  loaded  into  the  biggest  kettle ;  and 
Ned,  who  had  a  coughing  fit  and  said  he  didn't 
feel  very  well,  let  Miles  do  it  all.  He  recovered, 
however,  in  time  to  help  drag  the  stuff  to  the  deck, 


The  Man  of  the  Family  85 

and  to  get  up  from  the  orlop  a  small  chest  of 
Goodman  Rigdale's  ;  and  he  was  also  selfish  enough 
to  take  charge  himself  of  the  loud,  manly  labor  of 
transferring  the  goods  to  the  shallop. 

Somewhat  disappointed,  Miles  clambered  down 
again  to  the  cabin  to  fetch  the  box  with  Dolly's 
Indian  basket,  and,  when  he  came  back,  the  shallop 
was  so  near  ready  to  push  off  that  he  had  only 
time  to  drop  into  the  bow  beside  Lister.  Glancing 
round  the  great  sail  toward  the  stern,  where  such 
other  passengers  as  were  going  from  the  ship  were 
placed,  he  caught  sight  of  Captain  Standish,  who 
sat  stiffly,  with  one  arm  about  the  muffled  figure 
of  a  woman.  "  Yon  is  Mistress  Standish,  is  it 
not  ? "    Miles  questioned  Lister,  very  softly. 

His  companion  nodded.  "  Set  to  come  ashore, 
poor  lass  ! "  he  answered,  in  the  same  low  tone. 
"'Tis  the  last  trip  she'll  ever  make  in  the  shallop." 
This  Ned  spoke  sympathetically ;  then  had  no 
further  leisure  to  talk  for  settling  himself  comfort- 
ably with  his  back  against  Goodman  Rigdale's  bed- 
ding. 

Miles  moved  a  little  to  give  Ned  room,  but, 
without  heeding  him,  continued  to  gaze  at  Captain 
Standish  and  Mistress  Rose.  He  could  not  see 
her  face  for  the  hood  about  her  head  and  the  cloak 
drawn  up  above  he*-  :UH,  but  he  marked  the  listless 
droop  of  her  whole  body ;  and  he  noted,  too,  how 


86  Soldier  Rigdale 

the  Captain  sat  with  his  eyes  looking  straight  out 
and  his  mouth  hard.  Miles  wondered  if  what 
Lister  said  of  Mistress  Standish  were  true,  and, 
what  with  wondering  and  watching,  was  taken  by 
surprise  and  nearly  overset  when  the  shallop  bumped 
up  to  the  landing  place. 

For  a  moment  he  lingered  by  the  boat,  feigning 
to  busy  himself  with  unlading  the  kettle,  while  he 
watched  Mistress  Standish.  The  Captain  and 
Alden,  who  was  waiting  at  the  landing,  helped  her 
from  the  boat,  and  half  carried  her  away  between 
them  up  the  hill.  The  Captain's  face  was  still  so 
grave  and  stern,  that  Miles  was  a  trifle  frightened, 
and  very  sorry;  he  wished  he  were  a  man  like 
John  Alden,  so  he  could  have  spoken  to  the  Cap- 
tain and  helped  Mistress  Standish. 

Then  he  had  to  think  of  other  matters,  for  Ned, 
with  an  access  of  energy,  was  tumbling  the  goods 
ashore,  and  they  must  together  drag  them  up  to 
the  Elder's  house.  Just  at  present  that  was  home 
to  Miles,  because  his  mother  and  Dolly  lived  there, 
and  he  sometimes  ate  with  them,  though,  as  an 
additional  mark  of  manhood,  —  so  he  esteemed  it, 
—  he  spent  his  nights  at  the  Common  House. 

It  really  came  about  because  his  friends  could  not 
shelter  him.  Goodwife  Rigdale  and  Dolly  had  the 
last  spare  bed  at  the  Elder's  house  ;  the  cottage 
higher  up  the  hill,  on  which  Goodman  Rigdale  had 


The  Man  of  the  Family  87 

labored,  and  where  Goodman  Cooke  and  Jack  had 
now  one  bunk,  was  filled  with  men  whose  houses 
were  building ;  while  Master  Hopkins,  however 
well  he  might  mean  by  his  friend's  son,  had  not  a 
roof  to  cover  his  own  family.  So  Miles  slept  with 
Giles  Hopkins  at  the  Common  House,  where  at 
night  the  beds  were  placed  so  thick  one  need  not 
step  on  the  floor  in  passing  from  the  fire  to  his 
sleeping  place. 

On  Sunday  all  was  changed,  however,  for  then 
the  Common  House  became  a  meeting-house. 
They  tucked  the  beds  up  in  corners,  and  swept  the 
floor,  as  Miles  knew  to  his  cost,  for  on  this,  his 
second  Saturday  on  the  mainland,  they  pressed  him 
into  the  service.  Twice  on  the  Sabbath  the  Elder 
taught  his  little  company,  and  prayed  with  them 
there,  —  a  sorry  little  company  indeed,  of  whom 
fair  half  lay  sick  within  the  cheerless  cabins,  or  dead 
beneath  the  level  ground  of  the  harbor  bluff. 

The  thought  of  his  own  dead  father  made  Miles 
listen  attentively  that  day ;  and,  when  he  walked 
staidly  up  to  the  Elder's  house  before  twilight,  he 
took  Dolly  apart  into  his  mother's  cold  little  cham- 
ber, where  he  read  to  her  from  Goodman  Rigdale's 
black-letter  Bible.  He  was  a  painful  reader,  but  he 
felt  it  was  the  fit  thing  for  him  to  do  in  filling  his 
father's  place,  so,  with  the  great  book  on  his  knees, 
he  sat  on  the  floor,  beneath  the  little  window  that 


88  Soldier  Rigdale 

let  in  the  light  sparsely  through  its  oiled  paper,  and 
Dolly  sat  by  him,  with  her  head  on  his  shoulder. 
He  was  much  elated  at  finding  her  so  quiet  and  atten- 
tive, but,  when  he  paused  to  recover  breath  at  the 
end  of  a  very  tough  sentence  about  the  Perizzites, 
he  perceived  the  little  girl  was  fast  asleep. 

Miles  did  not  wake  her ;  just  sat  with  the  Bible 
in  his  lap  and  his  stiffening  arm  round  his  sister 
till,  when  it  had  grown  darker,  his  mother  came  to 
seek  them.  He  had  nothing  to  say  to  his  mother 
that  night,  but  afterward  it  was  something  to  re- 
member keenly,  though  with  an  under-pang  of 
sorrow,  how  he  had  sat  close  by  her  in  the  dark 
and  had  felt  her  hand  rest  on  his  head. 

Next  day  was  dreary  with  rain  and  sleet,  and  a 
dull  twilight  that,  closing  in  early,  drove  Miles  into 
the  house,  where  he  played  at  Even-and-Odd  with 
the  little  Brewsters  and  Dolly,  very  quietly,  be- 
cause the  Elder  was  writing  at  the  table.  Elder 
Brewster  was  always  kindly-spoken,  but  the  fact 
that  he  knew  such  a  deal  about  the  next  world,  and 
what  would  befall  you  if  you  were  not  good,  put 
Miles  in  great  awe  of  him. 

When  he  went  forth  at  length,  Miles,  feeling 
more  like  himself,  raised  his  voice,  and  even  let  the 
trenchers  clatter  while  he  and  Dolly  laid  the  table. 
But  he  had  no  desire  to  be  noisy,  when,  late  in  the 
evening,  the  Elder  returned  from  the  house  where 


The  Man  of  the  Family  89 

the  sick  lay.  A  word  or  two  passed  between  the 
older  folk  that  sent  Miles  with  a  whispered  ques- 
tion to  his  mother,  who  told  him  simply  that  Mis- 
tress Rose  Standish  had  died  that  evening. 

Dolly  cried,  because  she  was  a  foolish  girl,  but  it 
did  not  stir  Miles  so  deeply.  Indeed,  he  did  not 
come  to  feel  a  hearty  grief  till  next  morning,  when, 
as  he  climbed  the  hill  to  Elder  Brewster's  cottage, 
he  saw  Captain  Standish,  grim  and  set-faced,  trudg- 
ing up  to  the  woods  through  the  sleet  and  rain. 
The  weather  was  too  bitter  for  work,  and  the  axe 
which  the  Captain  carried  was,  Miles  guessed,  a  mere 
pretext.  All  through  the  day  it  made  him  shiver  to 
think  of  the  solitary  man,  lingering  in  the  cold 
among  the  pines ;  he  wondered  if  even  to  himself 
the  Captain  would  make  pretense  of  working,  or  if 
he  would  sit  idle  among  the  wet  logs. 

But  forty-eight  hours  later  the  Captain  was  going 
and  coming  and  working  among  the  rest,  just  as 
before,  though  maybe  a  bit  more  silent.  For  the 
hale  ones  who  could  labor  were  few ;  the  work  must 
be  done ;  and,  where  so  many  were  falling,  there 
was  small  space  to  grieve  for  a  single  life. 

Miles  had  even  grown  somewhat  blunted  to  the 
sight  of  the  sorry  little  companies  that  twice  and 
even  thrice  a  week  trudged  with  the  body  of  a 
friend  or  kinsman  to  the  bluff  above  the  harbor. 
His  own  life  went  on  methodically  ;  he  worked,  and 


90  Soldier  Rigdale 

even  played  with  Jack  Cooke  and  Trug,  and  some 
days,  when  he  was  allowed  to  go  fowling  with  Ned 
Lister  and  Giles  Hopkins,  fairly  enjoyed  himself. 

But  Ned  began  presently  to  have  coughing  fits 
even  when  he  was  bidden  to  go  hunting,  though 
Miles,  who  had  grown  distrustful  of  his  convenient 
illness,  urged  him  to  "  have  done  with  fooling  and 
come  along."  One  morning  in  February,  when 
Lister,  instead  of  going  about  his  work,  was  wasting 
his  time  thus  with  Miles  and  Jack  and  Giles  by  the 
fire  in  Goodman  Cooke's  cottage,  came  another  to 
urge  him,  no  less  a  one  than  Master  Hopkins. 
Miles  remembered  a  long  time  the  terrible  rating 
he  gave  Ned  for  his  laziness  and  trickery,  and  he 
wondered  that  the  young  man  sat  with  his  head 
leaning  on  his  fist,  and  flung  back  but  a  single  pro- 
test :  "  I  can  judge  better  than  you,  sir,  whether  I  be 
ill  or  not.     'Tis  my  head  that's  aching,  not  yours." 

To  which  Master  Hopkins  retorted  grimly  that, 
if  there  were  a  whipping  post  in  the  colony,  some- 
thing besides  Ned's  head  would  ache. 

Then,  for  that  there  was  no  help  for  it,  Lister  took 
his  fowling  piece  and  slouched  away  from  the  fire. 
"  I'm  going,  since  you  drive  me,"  he  said  sulkily, 
"  but  these  youngsters  need  not  follow  at  my  heels. 
'Twill  be  all  I  can  do  to  fetch  myself  home  again, 
let  alone  three  brats." 

Much  disappointed,  Miles  spent  the  day  in  the 


The  Man  of  the  Family  91 

less  joyous  labor  of  fetching  and  carrying  on  the 
great  hill,  where  they  were  putting  the  last  touches 
to  the  platform  on  which  the  guns  were  to  be 
mounted.  He  came  to  be  interested,  none  the 
less,  when  Goodman  Cooke  told  him  how,  in  a 
few  days,  they  would  drag  the  guns  up  the  hill  and 
put  them  in  place.  That  would  be  a  brave  thing 
to  see,  Miles  thought,  for  the  sailors  from  the 
Mayflower  were  to  come  ashore  and  help,  and  the 
street  from  the  hill  to  the  landing  place  would  be 
noisy  and  busy.  Not  so  busy,  though,  as  the  crew 
of  the  Mayflower  would  have  made  it  a  month 
before,  for  the  sickness  now  had  settled  on  the 
ship,  where  it  was  raging  unchecked. 

At  dusk,  as  Miles  came  down  from  the  hill,  he 
chanced  on  Master  Hopkins,  still  grumbling  at 
Lister,  who  bade  him  go  see  if  that  malingerer 
were  loitering  anywhere  in  the  settlement.  It 
seemed  a  spying  errand,  but,  not  thinking  of  dis- 
obedience, Miles  started  down  the  street.  Nearest 
the  shore  stood  the  Common  House,  the  house  for 
the  sick,  and  the  storehouse,  all  three  of  which,  to 
make  the  search  complete,  he  visited. 

In  the  big  main  room  of  the  sick-house  lay  the 
men  who  were  ill,  and,  as  Miles  stepped  in,  on 
tiptoe  because  of  his  heavy  shoes,  the  first  thing  he 
saw  beneath  the  candlelight  was  Ned  Lister's  black 
head,  half  hidden  under  the  coverlets  of  one  of  the 


92  Soldier  Rigdale 

bunks.     Miles  stole  up  to  him.     "  Why,  Ned,  ha' 
you   cheated  the  Doctor   himself? "   he  whispered   | 
cheerfully. 

Lister  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  him,  with 
his  eyes  very  bright.  "  I'm  cheating  you  all ;  yes," 
he  said,  with  a  laugh.  "Go  tell  Hopkins  be  more 
cautious  next  time  how  he  wastes  so  good  a  property 
as  a  serving  man.  A  pity!  If  I  die  he'll  be  out  i 
my  passage-money.  Well,  I  always  owed  him  a 
grudge  for  bringing  me  to  this  forsaken  country,  I 
and  I'll  even  scores  now." 

The  thought  seemed  to  please  Ned  mightily,  for 
he  laughed,  till  Doctor  Fuller,  stepping  from  the  ' 
inner  room,  sharply  bade  him  hush.     "  Get  you  to 
Master  Hopkins  and  tell  him  the  man  is  ill,"  he  j 
ordered  Miles ;  and,  as  he  let  the  boy  out  at  the 
door,  added,  for  his  ear  alone,  "very  ill." 

Somehow  Ned's  overthrow  frightened  Miles  more 
than  any  other  illness.  Lister  had  always  seemed 
so  tough  and  wiry  that  his  succumbing  at  last  set  the  I 
boy  to  asking  himself,  in  some  fright,  if  he,  too, 
might  not  fall  ill.  A  soreness  in  his  throat  or  an 
ache  in  his  head  made  him  nervous.  He  ques- 
tioned Jack  minutely  as  to  how  he  felt  before  he 
was  taken  sick,  and  then  he  began  at  once  to  feel 
as  Jack  had  felt.  He  started  to  tell  his  mother  and 
get  her  to  comfort  him,  but  then  he  was  ashamed ;  ' 
she  was   busy  and   anxious   all    the   time   for   the 


The  Man  of  the  Family  93 

people  she  was  called  on  to  nurse,  and  he  was  a 
great,  strong  boy,  who,  of  course,  would  not  be 
sick. 

But  one  day  his  head  ached  in  good  earnest  — 
no  imagination ;  and  next  morning  the  ache  was 
worse,  so  he  was  too  stupid  even  to  go  out. 
Wrestling  Brewster  was  ailing  too,  so  Dolly  and 
Love  stayed  by  his  bed  to  amuse  him,  and  Miles 
was  left  quite  alone.  All  day  he  sat  toasting  him- 
self by  the  fire,  till  he  was  too  warm  and  was  sure 
his  head  ached  because  of  the  heat,  so  out  he  went, 
and  tramped  up  and  down  the  street  till  his  teeth 
chattered  with  cold.  He  wanted  no  supper,  but  he 
went  back  to  the  house  to  bid  his  mother  good 
night  and  get  to  bed  early. 

"  Mother  came  home  very  weary  and  has  lain 
down  within,"  Dolly  said,  so  he  went  into  the  bed- 
room. A  cold  light  streamed  in  at  the  little  window, 
but  the  corners  of  the  low  room  were  dark  and  the 
pallet  was  in  shadow.  His  mother  was  stretched 
upon  it,  with  the  cloak  that  had  been  his  father's 
wrapped  round  her,  but  at  his  step  she  raised  her 
head.  "  It's  you,  my  lad  ?  "  she  asked,  and  reached 
out  her  hand. 

"  I  came  in  to  give  you  good  night,  mother,"  he 
said,  in  his  manliest  tone,  because  it  made  him 
proud  to  think  he  was  hiding  his  illness  from  her. 
"  I'll  mess  at  the  Common  House  to-night." 


94  Soldier  Rigdale 

She  put  up  her  hand,  and,  drawing  his  head 
down  to  her,  kissed  him.  Her  cheek  felt  hot  as 
it  pressed  against  his,  and  even  in  the  dim  light  he 
noted  that  her  face  was  flushed,  but  his  head  ached 
so  lamentably  that  he  made  nothing  of  it.  "Why, 
deary,  you're  not  ill  ?  "  he  heard  her  say. 

"  Indeed,  no,  mother.  No  more  ill  than  you," 
he  answered  bravely,  and,  bidding  her  good  night, 
went  softly  out  of  the  room. 

The  west  was  all  a  chill  yellow,  and  a  northerly 
breeze  was  astir  that  set  Miles  shivering  long  before 
he  reached  the  Common  House.  There  a  fire  was 
alight  that  looked  comforting,  and,  going  up  to  it, 
he  snuggled  down  in  a  corner  of  the  hearth.  At 
the  table  of  boards  laid  on  trestles  some  of  the  men 
were  eating  their  supper,  but  Miles  was  sick  at  the 
mere  thought  of  food.  He  sat  staring  and  staring 
into  the  heart  of  the  flames,  where  he  could  see  the 
outlines  of  the  farmhouse  at  home,  and  then  he  saw 
nothing,  but  he  faintly  heard  steps  upon  the  floor, 
and  somebody  caught  him  up. 

"  What  are  you  falling  on  the  fire  in  that  fashion 
for,  eh  ? "  one  asked,  and  the  man  who  held  him  — 
he  had  a  vague  notion  it  was  Alden  —  questioned, 
"What's  wrong,  lad?" 

"  Oh  —  h  !  "  wailed  Miles,  "  I  think  I'm  dying." 


CHAPTER   VIII 

IN    THE    TIME    OF    THE    SICKNESS 

TO  be  sure,  Miles  did  not  die,  but  for  some 
days  he  lay  in  the  sick-house,  too  ill  to 
give  much  heed  to  what  went  on  about 
him,  or  take  thought  for  anything  save  his  own 
misery.  From  a  mass  of  hazy  recollections  one  or 
two  moments  of  that  time  afterward  came  back 
clearly. 

One  such  memory  was  of  a  dim  morning  within 
the  cheerless  room,  when,  through  the  familiar 
patter,  patter  of  rain  on  the  oiled  paper  at  the 
windows,  he  heard  a  latch  creak  somewhere  and 
men  tread  cautiously.  Turning  weakly  on  his 
pillow,  Miles  looked  to  the  door  that  led  to 
the  inner  room,  where  the  sick  women  lay,  and 
he  saw  Goodman  Cooke  and  Edward  Dotey  come 
forth,  stepping  carefully,  and  carrying  on  a  stretcher 
between  them  something  that  was  muffled  up  and 
motionless.  He  turned  his  face  again  to  the  wall, 
and  neither  thought  nor  reasoned  of  what  it  meant, 
— just  listened  to  the  lulling  patter  of  the  rain. 

The  other  time  of  which  he  kept  remembrance 
was  a  crisp  night,  when  the  whiff  of  wind  that  blew 

95 


g6  Soldier  Rigdale 

in  at  the  outer  door,  as  it  was  opened,  smelt  fresh 
and  good,  and  Cooke,  who  came  to  tend  the  fire, 
piled  the  logs  high.  Dozing  and  waking,  Miles 
watched  through  half-closed  eyelids  the  crowded 
pallets  about  him,  and  the  shadows  that  flickered 
up  and  down  the  rough  walls.  He  must  have  slept 
a  moment,  but  he  roused  up  suddenly  to  see  in  the 
waning  firelight  Elder  Brewster,  who  bent  over  him 
with  a  cup  of  drink.  Leaning  against  the  arm  that 
supported  him,  Miles  swallowed  the  draught  obe- 
diently, and  then  the  Elder,  with  more  care  than  he 
usually  had  time  to  bestow  on  a  single  patient, 
laid  him  down  and  drew  the  coverings  round  him. 
"  Poor  little  lad !  "  Miles  heard  him  say,  under  his 
breath.     "  God  comfort  you  !  " 

Miles  wondered  a  little,  but,  too  stupid  greatly 
to  heed  what  was  said,  soon  dropped  to  sleep  once 
more. 

The  crisis  of  his  sickness  must  have  passed 
on  that  night,  for  a  day  or  two  later  he  felt  enough 
like  himself  to  swallow  with  some  relish  a  dish 
of  broth.  Ned  Lister,  packed  out  from  the  sick- 
house  while  still  convalescent,  to  make  room  for 
others,  fetched  him  the  broth,  and  helped  him  eat, 
with  a  choking  great  spoon  that  made  the  process 
slow.  Miles  wondered  whether  Ned  had  grown 
thin  or  his  clothes  had  grown  baggy ;  perhaps  'twas 
a  little  of  both. 


In  the  Time  of  the  Sickness  97 

Then,  on  the  idle  wonderment,  followed  more 
serious  thought,  and,  speaking  slowly  and  weakly, 
he  asked,  as  Lister  settled  him  in  his  pallet  again  : 
"  Tell  me,  Ned,  why  has  not  my  mother  been  here 
to  nurse  me,  as  she  did  you  and  the  others  ? " 

"  Haven't  you  been  well  enough  looked  to, 
Miley  ? "  questioned  Ned,  bending  down  to  tie  his 
shoestrings. 

"  'Tis  just  the  men  have  cared  for  me." 

"  Well,  you're  a  man  yourself,  and  want  only  men 
to  look  to  you,  eh  ?  " 

"  No,  I'm  not  a  man,"  said  Miles,  the  ready  tears 
of  sickness  welling  into  his  eyes,  "  and  I  want  my 
mother." 

"  I  heard  she  had  a  touch  of  the  fever  herself," 
answered  Ned,  still  busy  with  his  shoes.  "We're  all 
helpless  with  it,  Miles.  There's  only  seven  of  us  now 
that  can  crawl  about  to  do  aught.  And  the  Captain 
and  the  Elder  are  working  each  like  three.  By  the 
Lord,  those  be  two  good  fellows!"  This  earnestly, 
for  Ned  ;  and  then,  gathering  up  his  bowl  and  spoon, 
he  walked  away  to  minister  to  the  next  sick  man. 

Every  one  ill,  and  the  care  of  the  whole  colony 
on  the  shoulders  of  seven  men,  some  half  sick  them- 
selves !  Miles  realized  vaguely  that  he  ought  to  be 
patient  and  not  fret  at  anything,  but  still  the  next 
two  days  of  his  slow  convalescence  were  long  and 
hard  to  bear. 


98  Soldier  Rigdale 

He  was  glad  enough,  one  dim  morning  that 
seemed  like  all  the  others,  when  the  Elder  came 
into  the  sick-room  with  Dolly  at  his  side.  "  The 
little  wench  begged  to  come  to  you,  Miles,"  he  said, 
as  he  seated  her  on  the  edge  of  the  boy's  pallet. 
"  But  she  is  to  talk  only  few  words,  and  softly, 
because  there  are  others  lying  here  very  ill." 

So  soon  as  he  had  turned  and  left  the  children  to 
themselves,  Dolly  bent  and  dabbed  a  kiss  upon  her 
brother's  chin.  "  Though  you  make  me  shy,  near 
as  if  you  were  a  stranger,  Miles,"  she  explained,  in 
a  subdued  whisper,  "  you  are  grown  so  peaked,  and 
your  eyes  are  so  very  round." 

Miles  smiled  weakly,  but  happily ;  it  was  so  good 
to  see  the  face  of  one  of  his  own  people.  "  I'm 
glad  you  came,  Dolly,"  he  said,  drawing  her  hand 
tremulously  into  his.  "  Mother  will  soon  come 
too,  will  she  not  ?  Why  did  she  not  come  with 
you  r 

A  choke  made  Dolly's  whisper  broken  :  "  She  — 
could  not." 

"  Is  she  ill  ?  " 

Dolly  nodded,  with  a  piteous  face. 

Miles's  thin  fingers  gripped  her  hand  fast.  "  Dolly, 
she  isn't  —  dead  ?  "  His  voice  rose  high  and  fright- 
ened. 

"  Oh,  you  mustn't,  Miles,"  Dolly  gasped.  "  And 
I  can't  tell  you.     They  said  I  must  not  speak  of 


In  the  Time  of  the  Sickness  99 

her  to  you.  Oh,  Miles,  Miles,  she  has  been  dead 
these  four  days  !  " 

They  carried  Dolly  away,  the  mischief  done,  and 
Miles,  hiding  his  head  beneath  the  bedclothes,  cried 
so  long  as  strength  was  in  him.  Then  he  lay  watch- 
ing the  red  and  orange  streaks  that  flashed  before 
his  tight-closed  eyes,  and,  thinking  how  stuffy  it  was 
beneath  the  coverlets,  wondered  if  perhaps  he  would 
not  smother.  He  hoped  he  would,  so  he  had  a 
first  sensation  of  fretful  disappointment,  when  some 
one  uncovered  his  head ;  and  then,  as  he  caught  the 
clearer  air  on  his  face  and  looked  up  at  Captain 
Standish,  felt  vaguely  comforted. 

"  Drink  you  this,  lad,"  spoke  the  Captain,  gruffly, 
yet,  Miles  realized,  with  vast  pity  in  his  tone. 
"Then  sleep." 

"I'll  — try,"  swallowed  Miles. 

"  That's  well.     Bear  it  soldierly,  as  we  all  must." 

"  Like  a  soldier,"  Miles  repeated  over  and  over 
to  himself,  and,  shutting  his  lips,  pressed  his  head 
into  the  bolster,  till,  worn-out,  he  slept. 

When  he  awoke,  the  realization  of  his  loss  re- 
turned, keen  almost  as  ever ;  but  he  was  a  healthy 
lad,  so  inevitably  strength  came  back  to  him,  and 
with  it,  little  by  little,  as  he  mastered  it  in  silence, 
his  grief  abated.  Those  about  him  were  kind,  too, 
and  did  what  they  could  to  comfort  him.  Captain 
Standish  himself  cared  for  him ;    Ned  Lister  and 


ioo  Soldier  Rigdale 

Giles  visited  him  often ;  and  once  they  even  let 
poor,  guilty  Dolly  come  to  see  him.  She  fetched 
in  her  arms  fat  Solomon,  who  yowled  so  piteously 
that,  just  inside  the  door,  Doctor  Fuller,  who  was 
up  and  able  to  tend  his  sick  again,  made  her  put 
him  down,  whereupon  the  cat  fled  home,  fast  as 
four  legs  could  bear  him. 

"  'Twas  such  a  pity  when  I  fetched  him  so  far  to 
see  you,"  Dolly  lamented  to  Miles,  as  she  exhib- 
ited the  scratches  on  her  hands,  "  but  he  will  go 
home  safe  to  Mistress  Brewster's  house.  He  likes 
it  there,  and  so  do  I.  I  am  going  to  live  there 
always  with  Love  and  Wrestling  and  Priscilla  Mul- 
lins.  She  made  me  a  poppet  of  a  piece  of  scarlet 
cloth,  and  I  called  it  after  her.  I  shall  bring  it  to 
show  you  next  time,  though  you'll  laugh  at  it, 
because  you  are  a  boy.  Indeed,  I  do  like  it  at 
Mistress  Brewster's.  If  only  mammy  and  daddy 
were  there  too  !  "  she  added,  in  a  lower  tone. 

Elder  Brewster  himself  had,  at  the  very  first, 
paused  by  Miles's  bed,  and  spoken  gravely  to  him 
of  how  his  mother  was  now  in  a  more  blessed  place, 
and  he  must  try  always  to  be  a  good  boy,  so  some 
day  he  might  join  her.  Though  he  listened  duti- 
fully, Miles  did  not  care  for  the  Elder's  admoni- 
tions as  much  as  he  cared  for  Mistress  Brewster's 
words.  Newly  risen  from  her  sick-bed,  she  came  to 
him,  and,  sitting  by  his  pallet,  whispered  him  of  his 


In  the  Time  of  the  Sickness  101 

mother,  and  how,  before  she  died,  she  had  left  her 
love  for  him,  and  bidden  him  always  be  a  good  lad 
and  a  good  brother  to  the  little  wench.  "  Though 
my  lad  will  be  that  without  my  bidding,"  Alice 
Rigdale  had  added.  "  He  has  always  been  a  good 
little  son  to  me." 

Miles  listened,  with  his  face  held  stolid ;  it  was 
only  when  Mistress  Brewster  bent  and  kissed  him, 
like  his  mother,  that  he  blinked  fast  and  turned 
away  his  head. 

Day  by  day  he  grew  stronger,  till  he  sat  up  in 
bed,  and  then,  by  slow  stages,  was  suffered  to  put 
on  his  clothes  and  walk  staggeringly  across  the 
room.  The  next  advance  was  his  going  out  into 
the  air,  which  would  doubtless  have  been  longer 
deferred  if  any  one  had  had  time  to  give  close  heed 
to  the  sick  boy.  But  Doctor  Fuller  was  busied  else- 
where, and  the  Elder  was  looking  to  others  of  the 
sick  folk,  so,  one  morning  when  Lister  had  helped 
Miles  into  his  clothes,  the  boy  took  matters  into 
his  own  hands  by  slipping  out  at  the  door. 

It  was  a  rare,  mild  March  day,  with  a  tender  wind 
of  the  spring  that  came  from  the  western  woods. 
The  earth  was  soft  beneath  the  foot ;  the  few  bushes 
that  clambered  up  the  bluff  across  the  way  were 
bursting  with  brown  buds ;  and  the  blue  harbor 
dazzled  under  the  vivid  sunlight.  Leaning  against 
the  doorpost,  Miles  joyfully  drank   in  the  fresh- 


I 


1 02  Soldier  Rigdale 

ness  of  the  morning,  though  his  eyes  grew  wistful 
as  he  looked  again  to  the  bluff  yonder  where  were 
the  levelled  graves. 

Presently  he  summoned  up  his  strength,  and, 
stepping  cautiously  off  the  doorstone,  picked  his 
way  round  to  the  east  side  of  the  house,  where  the 
sun  was  warmest.  Here  the  ground  was  trodden 
and  bare,  save  for  the  chips  scattered  about  the  logs, 
of  which  there  was  a  great  heap  stacked  against  the 
house-wall.  At  the  other  side  of  the  pile,  a  tub  of 
water  rested  on  a  great  block,  and,  most  marvellous 
of  all,  over  the  tub,  busily  washing  a  mass  of  bed- 
linen,  bent  Captain  Standish. 

Miles  caught  his  breath  in  a  gasp  of  surprise  that 
made  the  Captain  look  up.  "  So  you're  well  re- 
covered, Miles  ?  "  he  asked  cheerily. 

The  boy  nodded,  and  set  himself  down  on  the 
woodpile. 

"  Cast  on  my  doublet,  there  beside  you,  if  you 
will  be  sitting  here,"  said  Standish,  and,  shaking 
the  water  off  his  hands,  came  and  wrapped  the 
garment  about  Miles. 

Snuggling  down  against  the  sunny  logs,  Miles 
gravely  watched  the  Captain.  He  washed  the 
clothes  deliberately,  with  a  good  deal  of  sober 
splashing  and  a  lavish  use  of  soap  ;  and  then  he 
wrung  them  so  vigorously  that  the  muscles  of  his 
bared  arms  stood  out.     So  earnest  and  busy  did  he 


"'Do  you  like  to  do  it,    Captain  Stan  dish  ?' " 


In  the  Time  of  the  Sickness  103 

seem  about  the  undignified  task  that,  before  he 
thought,  Miles  blurted  out :  "  Do  you  like  to  do  it, 
Captain  Standish  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  the  Captain  answered  cheer- 
fully, as  he  twisted  a  sheet  so  hard  that  a  jet  of 
water  spurted  over  the  front  of  his  shirt,  "  not  in 
the  least,  Miles.  But  there's  no  one  else  to  do  it, 
and  it  must  needs  be  done." 

Miles  pondered  a  moment.  "  I  take  it,  that's 
how  it  is  with  living;  somebody  has  to,"  he  said 
at  length. 

"  And  somebody  is  right  glad  to,"  Captain  Stand- 
ish answered,  with  a  quick  glance  at  Miles.  "  You 
must  get  well  and  run  about  and  do  a  man's  share 
of  the  work  that's  before  us,  and  you'll  soon  be  rid 
of  any  heavy  thoughts." 

Miles  sat  still  in  the  sunlight,  and,  reflecting 
vaguely,  called  to  mind  that,_  if  his  father  and 
mother  both  were  dead,  Mistress  Rose  Standish, 
who  was  all  the  Captain  had,  likewise  rested  yonder 
on  the  bluff.  Out  of  the  fullness  of  knowledge  the 
Captain  was  trying  once  more  to  teach  him  how  to 
bear  all  bravely,  he  guessed,  so  he  began  stoutly  : 
"Yes,  I'm  going  to  be  a  man,  sir.  Because  now  I'll 
have  to  take  care  of  Trug  and  Dolly  and  Solomon." 

Captain  Standish  smiled  a  little,  as  he  gathered 
the  wet  clothes  into  his  arms.  "  You're  a  true  man 
already,  Miles,"  he  said.     "  At  least,  you're  a  man 


104  Soldier  Rigdale 

in  the  way  you  group  your  women-folk  with  your 
cattle." 

After  the  Captain  had  gone  behind  the  house  to 
hang  out  his  wash,  Miles  rested  a  time  very  thought- 
ful. The  sunlight  was  warm  and  pleasant,  and  south- 
ward across  the  harbor  the  great  bluff  was  dense  with 
evergreen.  A  brave  world,  and  he  was  going  to  do 
a  brave  part  in  it,  as  his  mother  had  looked  for  him 
to  do. 

A  step  upon  the  chips  made  him  rouse  up  just  as 
Master  Hopkins  came  leisurely  round  the  wood- 
pile. His  face  was  pale,  for  he,  too,  had  been 
touched  with  the  sickness,  and  his  manner  was 
kinder  than  Miles  had  ever  known  in  him.  "  So 
you're  hale  again,  Miles  Rigdale  ?  Do  you  think 
you  could  make  shift  to  walk  up  the  hill  to  my 
house  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  Miles  replied  promptly.  The  house 
that  Master  Hopkins  was  building  when  Miles  fell 
sick  stood  just  across  the  street  from  the  Elder's, 
and  the  boy  had  made  up  his  mind  to  drag  himself 
to  the  latter's  cottage  that  day.  It  made  his  heart 
quicken  to  think  of  seeing  again  the  rooms  where 
his  mother  had  lived  that  last  month,  and  of  talking 
with  Dolly  and  Mistress  Brewster.  He  hoped,  too, 
that  if  he  got  up  to  the  house  they  would  keep  him 
there  to  supper,  perhaps  all  night.  So  he  answered 
Master   Hopkins's  question   confidently  and    hap- 


In  the  Time  of  the  Sickness  105 

pily  :  "  Yes,  sir.  I  can  surely  walk  that  far  up  the 
hill." 

"  That's  well,"  said  Master  Hopkins  ;  "  you  shall 
eat  dinner  with  us  this  noontime." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  Miles  answered,  not  over- 
joyed, but  civilly. 

"  I'll  take  you  to  the  house  with  me  when  I  go 
back  thither,"  the  other  pursued.  "You  under- 
stand, you  are  to  dwell  with  me  hereafter." 

When  Captain  Standish  returned  from  his  drying 
ground,  Stephen  Hopkins  had  gone  on  down  to  the 
landing,  and  against  the  logs  huddled  a  piteous- 
faced  small  boy,  who  at  sight  of  him  cried  :  "  Cap- 
tain Standish,  Master  Hopkins  says  I  must  live 
with  him." 

"  Do  you  not  wish  to  ? "  asked  Standish,  noncha- 
lantly, and,  tipping  the  water  out  of  his  tub,  set 
himself  down  on  the  block  where  it  had  rested. 

"I'd  rather  go  anywhere  else  in  Plymouth,  unless 
'twas  to  Goodwife  Billington.  Must  I  go  to  him, 
Captain  Standish  ?  "  Forgetting  his  usual  respectful 
demeanor,  Miles  rose,  and,  stumbling  the  few  steps 
to  the  Captain,  leaned  against  his  knee.  "  I  thought 
—  maybe  I  should  go  with  Dolly  to  Mistress  Brews- 
ter," he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

Standish  suddenly  put  one  arm  about  him.  "A 
pity  it  couldn't  be  so,  Miles !  But  the  Elder's 
house  is  full,  and  at  Master  Hopkins's  there's  half 


106  Soldier  Rigdale 

a  bed ;  you  can  sleep  with  Giles.  In  any  case, 
Master  Hopkins  was  your  father's  kinsman." 

"I  could  go  to  Goodman  Cooke,"  pleaded  Miles. 
"Or — or — I  wish  I  could  live  with  you." 

Standish  laughed  outright,  though  when  he  spoke 
his  voice  was  gentle :  "  I  would  take  you,  laddie, 
and  be  glad  to,  if  things  were  —  as  I  thought  they 
would  be.  Rose  had  a  liking  for  you."  He 
stopped  short,  and  Miles,  looking  up  in  some  awe, 
noted  that  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  blue  harbor, 
yet  he  seemed  to  see  nothing  of  it.  When  he  spoke 
again,  his  tone  was  quick  and  altered  :  "But  as  things 
have  fallen  out,  John  Alden  and  I  are  sleeping  in  an 
unfinished  cabin  and  eating  where  we  can  find  a  bite. 
And  a  little  young  fellow  like  you  would  be  better 
off  in  a  household  where  there  are  women  than  with 
two  clumsy  men.  So  they  have  arranged  it  all  for 
your  best  good." 

Miles  nodded,  not  trusting  his  voice  to  speak. 
He  was  thinking  of  what  the  Captain  had  said  about 
being  a  man  and  things  that  had  to  be  done,  and  he 
meant  to  make  a  good  showing  before  him.  "  I 
like  Giles,"  he  began  slowly,  "and  I  like  Con- 
stance, and  Ned  Lister  will  be  there  too ;  I'll  try 
to  like  Master  Hopkins  —  if  he'll  let  me  bring 
Trug." 

So  he  had  put  on  quite  a  brave  face  by  the 
time   Master   Hopkins  came  to  fetch  him  to  his 


In  the  Time  of  the  Sickness  107 

new  home.  To  him  it  was  all  so  much  a  matter  of 
course  that  he  offered  no  explanations  or  common- 
place cheering  words  to  Miles;  just  bade  him  come, 
and  soberly  led  the  way  up  the  hill.  Miles,  with 
I  his  feet  like  lead  and  his  brave  resolution  flagging, 
loitered  half-heartedly  behind  him,  till  Master  Hop- 
kins turned.  "  You're  not  yet  as  strong  as  you 
thought,  Miles  Rigdale  ? "  he  said  gravely,  but 
kindly  enough,  and,  lifting  the  boy  in  his  arms, 
carried  him  up  the  hill. 

Miles  rested  passive,  one  arm  thrown  perfunctorily 
about  Master  Hopkins's  neck,  and  wished  he  were 
anywhere  else. 


CHAPTER  IX 

master  hopkins's  guest 

"  'In  Wakefield  there  lives  a  jolly  pinder, 
In  Wakefield  all  on  a  green, 
In  Wakefield  all  on  a  green,  —  ' 

There,  there,  Damans  !     Hushaby,  hushaby  !     Go 
to  sleep,  like  a  good  lass." 

Damaris  gurgled  at  Miles  with  a  provokingly 
wide-awake  crow.  "  I  never  saw  such  a  bad  baby," 
sighed  the  little  boy.     "  Do  go  to  sleep,  honey. 

'  In  Wakefield  there  lives  a  jolly  pinder,  — '  " 

"  Oh,  Miles,"  laughed  Constance  Hopkins,  who, 
standing  at  the  rude  table,  was  scouring  the  biggest 
kettle,  "  you  have  sung  that  half  a  score  of  times. 
Is  there  no  other  song  you  know  ?  " 

"  It  is  no  time  for  the  child  to  sleep  now,"  inter- 
rupted Mistress  Hopkins.  "  I'll  wrap  her  up,  and, 
since  'tis  so  mild  a  morning,  you  may  take  her  forth 
into  the  air." 

"O  dear!"  thought  Miles,  "I'm  a  man,  not  a 
nurse."  He  never  considered  that  it  was  any  kind- 
ness on  his  new  guardians'  part  when,  instead  of 

108 


Master  Hopkins's  Guest  109 

putting  him  to  heavy  outdoor  tasks,  they  set  him 
to  minding  the  baby  and  helping  about  the  house. 
"  Like  a  girl,"  Miles  told  himself,  with  an  indignant 
sniff.  It  was  not  two  weeks  since  he  left  the  sick- 
house,  and  his  legs  were  still  a  little  uncertain,  but 
he  was  sure  he  was  fit  to  work  again,  or,  at  any  rate, 
fit  to  run  away  and  play  with  the  other  boys. 

But  he  took  the  baby  now  and  walked  forth 
meekly,  because  he  lived  in  some  dread  of  Mistress 
Elizabeth  Hopkins.  She  was  a  thin-lipped,  ener- 
getic young  woman,  who  mended  Miles's  clothes 
scrupulously,  and,  with  equal  conscientiousness, 
boxed  his  ears  whenever  he  tracked  dirt  on  her 
clean  floors.  Her  sharp  tongue,  though,  he  feared 
more  than  her  hands,  for  Mistress  Hopkins  scolded 
at  everything  and  everybody ;  indeed,  the  only 
members  of  the  household  whom  her  words  never 
troubled  were  Oceanus,  who  was  so  young  he  just 
blinked  his  eyes  when  she  talked,  and  Master  Hop- 
kins, on  whom  people's  fretting  had  as  much  effect 
as  it  would  have  had  upon  the  great  rock  at  the 
landing  place. 

After  all,  Miles  was  rather  glad  to  get  out  into  the 
air,  away  from  the  living  room,  where  Mistress  Hop- 
kins was  already  chiding  Constance.  The  morning 
was  fair  and  warm,  with  no  wind  stirring,  and  the 
harbor  sparkled  invitingly,  so,  shouldering  the  un- 
welcome Damaris,  he  started  happily  to  the  shore. 


no  Soldier  Rigdale 

But  his  contentment  speedily  had  an  end,  for,  not 
halfway  to  the  landing,  he  was  overtaken  by  Francis 
Billington,  Jack  Cooke,  and  Joe  Rogers,  who  at 
once  addressed  him  in  disrespectful  wise.  "  Ho, 
Miles,  that's  brave  work,  tending  a  baby,"  jeered 
Francis. 

"  You  meddle  with  your  own  matters,"  Miles 
replied  sulkily. 

"  Come  with  us,  Miles,"  Jack  put  in  pacifically. 
"  We're  going  along  shore  to  the  first  brook  — " 

"  We  do  not  want  a  baby  with  us,"  Joe  inter- 
rupted. 

"  You  might  stay  with  me,  Jack,"  Miles  pleaded, 
as  the  others  turned  away. 

Jack,  a  freckled  little  fellow  with  merry  eyes, 
dug  the  heel  of  his  shoe  into  the  dirt.  "  The  other 
lads  will  be  having  sport,"  he  said  half-heartedly. 

"  Then  go  with  them,"  cried  Miles.  "  Only 
you  were  very  fain  to  play  with  me  on  shipboard." 

Even  this  last  thrust  failed ;  Jack  ran  after  the 
others  down  the  hill,  and  Miles,  feeling  cross  and 
ill-treated,  was  left  to  himself. 

'Twould  look  too  much  as  if  he  were  following 
his  ungracious  friends  if  he  went  on  to  the  landing, 
so  he  turned  back  to  Elder  Brewster's  house.  There 
Priscilla  Mullins,agirl  orphaned  by  the  winter's  sick- 
ness, who,  because  she  was  eighteen,  was  classed  by 
Miles  as  a  woman,  was  sweeping  the  doorstone  with 


Master  Hopkins's  Guest  in 

a  broom  of  birch  twigs.  She  paused  in  the  labor 
teasingly  to  throw  him  a  kiss,  and  tell  him  his  busy 
sister  and  the  lads  were  cooking  by  the  brookside. 

Sure  enough,  in  the  level  space  between  the  base 
of  the  bluff  on  which  the  cottage  stood  and  the 
cove,  Miles  found  Dolly,  and  Dolly's  poppet  Pris- 
cilla,  and  Love,  and  Wrestling,  and  Solomon,  and 
Trug,  who  was  not  admitted  to  Mistress  Hopkins's 
house  because  his  great  paws  dirtied  her  floor,  —  all 
busied  in  making  delectable  pies  of  mud. 

But  when  Miles  joined  them,  Love  withdrew  from 
the  mud-pie  game,  and  wished  to  play  at  holding  a 
council,  such  as  his  father  and  all  the  men  were 
holding  that  morning  in  the  Common  House  to 
regulate  the  military  affairs  of  the  colony.  Dolly 
insisted  that  she  should  be  allowed  to  come  to  the 
council  too,  for  all  Love  urged  that  women  never 
were  invited  thither,  and  the  argument  was  growing 
bitter,  when  an  unwonted  tumult  in  the  village  street 
drew  Miles's  attention.  A  confused  sort  of  calling 
and  shrill  shouting  it  seemed,  that  made  his  heart 
quicken  between  curiosity  and  alarm;  so,  snatching 
up  Damaris,  he  scaled  the  bluff,  while  the  rest  of 
the  children  scrambled  close  behind  him. 

On  the  doorstone  Mistress  Brewster  and  Priscilla 
were  gazing  in  silent  wonder  toward  the  street,  and, 
looking  thither  too,  Miles  saw  a  man  stalk  past  to 
the   landing,  very  deliberately,  as  if  he  knew  the 


H2  Soldier  Rigdale 

place  and  held  he  had  the  right  to  come  there.  It 
was  no  one  of  the  settlers,  though,  but  a  great, 
half-naked  fellow  with  a  coppery  face  —  an  Indian. 

Dolly  and  Wrestling  clutched  Mistress  Brewster's 
skirts,  the  little  boy  fairly  crying,  and  Miles  himself, 
it  must  be  owned,  held  Damaris  fast  and  drew  a  step 
nearer  the  doorstone.  But  next  moment  he  noted 
the  Indian  carried  for  weapons  only  a  bow  and  two 
arrows,  with  which  he  could  not  kill  all  the  settle- 
ment, and,  moreover,  at  his  heels  tagged  ventur- 
ously Giles  Hopkins  and  several  of  the  other  boys, 
and  even  Goodwife  Billington,  very  clamorous,  and 
the  Governor's  serving  maid. 

So  Miles,  not  to  be  outdone  by  a  petticoat,  swag- 
gered into  the  roadway  and  joined  himself  to  the 
little  group  of  curious  folk,  who,  always  ready  to 
flee  if  he  should  turn  on  them,  followed  close  at 
the  savage's  heels,  down  the  steep  hill,  past  Peter 
Browne's  cottage,  even  to  the  door  of  the  Common 
House. 

The  noise  in  the  street  had  already  disturbed  the 
men  at  their  conference,  and  they  came  flocking 
forth  at  the  door,  the  Governor,  the  Elder,  and  the 
Captain,  with  a  score  of  other  stout  fighters  crowd- 
ing behind  them.  But  the  Indian,  never  a  whit 
abashed,  strode  boldly  up  to  them,  would  even  have 
pressed  into  the  house,  had  not  their  ranks  barred 
his    passage.       Nothing    chilled,    he    halted,   and, 


Master  Hopkins's  Guest  113 

stretching   forth    his    hands,  spoke    in    a    guttural 
tone :  "  Welcome." 

"Do  Indians  talk  English?"  Miles  whispered 
Giles,  who  stood  beside  him.     "  Hush,  hush,  D., 
maris  !     The  black  man  won't  hurt  you." 

But  Damaris,  quite  unconvinced,  clutched  Miles 
tightly  round  the  neck  and  went  on  crying  lustily, 
till  at  last  Goodwife  Billington  seized  him  by  the 
collar.  "  Thou  good-for-naught  lad  !  "  she  scolded. 
"  Wilt  thou  kill  the  poor  babe  ?  Take  her  back  to 
the  house,  thou  runagate  !  Ay,  ay,  let  her  scream 
herself  ill,  so  thou  mayest  gape  and  gaze.  I  would 
I  had  the  up-bringing  of  thee  !  " 

Some  people  besides  himself  liked  to  gape 
and  gaze,  Miles  thought,  but,  without  reply,  he 
gathered  the  wailing  Damaris  into  his  arms  and 
trudged  slowly  up  the  hill.  There,  by  the  Gover- 
nor's house,  it  chanced  he  met  with  Francis  and 
Jack  and  Joe,  who,  scenting  something  unusual  in 
the  village,  had  hastened  back  through  the  fields. 
"  What  is  it  has  happened,  Miles  ?  "  cried  Joe. 

Miles,  glancing  over  his  shoulder,  saw  with  un- 
kind satisfaction  that  the  men  had  taken  the  savage 
into  the  Common  House,  out  of  sight.  "  'Twas 
naught,"  he  said  airily.  "Just  a  great  Indian  came 
into  town." 

"  Did  you  see  him  ? "  urged  Francis.  "  Tell  us 
about  it." 


1 14  Soldier  Rigdale 

"  Humph  !  You've  no  wish  to  talk  to  me  when 
I'm  tending  a  baby,"  sniffed  Miles,  and  trudged  on 
to  Master  Hopkins's  house,  so  elate  at  his  triumph 
that  he  forgot  to  be  angry  with  Damaris  for  dragging 
him  away  from  the  sport. 

At  the  noon  meal,  indeed,  he  heard  all  and  more 
than  he  could  have  learned,  had  he  lingered  about 
the  door  of  the  Common  House,  for  Ned  Lister 
was  bubbling  over  with  talk  of  the  Indian.  As 
Master  Hopkins  had  stayed  at  the  Common  House 
and  Dotey  had  none  of  his  fellow-servant's  faculty 
for  gathering  news,  he  proved  the  only  tale-monger 
of  the  household  ;  so  the  whole  family  harked  to  him 
respectfully,  and  even  Mistress  Hopkins  forgot  her 
usual  sarcasms  on  his  galloping  tongue. 

"  This  is  not  a  savage  from  these  parts,"  Ned  ex- 
plained ;  "  he  comes  from  the  eastward,  from  Mon- 
hegan,  whither  the  ships  out  of  England  go  to  fish. 
He  has  been  on  shipboard  there  and  so  has  got  a 
smattering  of  the  English  tongue.  One  Captain 
Dermer  brought  him  to  Cape  Cod,  and  he  has  been 
in  these  parts  now  some  eight  months.  And  he 
told  us  a  deal  of  the  nations  hereabout.  This  open 
place  where  we  have  settled  is  called  Patuxet.  It 
was  a  village  of  the  savages  once,  but  three  or  four 
years  back  came  a  great  plague,  and  all  the  people 
died,  so  now  we  are  undisputed  masters  of  the  soil. 
Next  unto  us  dwell  the  Massasoits,  a  tribe  of  some 


Master  Hopkins's  Guest  115 

sixty  righting  men ;  and  to  the  southeast,  those 
savages  whom  our  men  gave  a  brush  to  on  their 
explorations  in  December,  are  the  Nausets,  near  a 
hundred  strong." 

Ned  paused  to  secure  himself  another  slice  of 
cold  mallard ;  then  started  on  a  new  train  :  "  You 
should  'a'  seen  the  Indian  fellow  eat.  He  asked 
for  beer,  but  we  gave  him  strong  water,  and  biscuit 
and  butter  and  cheese  and  pudding,  and  a  piece  of 
mallard  thereto,  and  he  liked  all  very  well,  and  ate 
right  heartily." 

"  He  is  not  the  only  idler  who  looks  for  a  full 
meal,"  said  Mistress  Hopkins  scathingly.  "Where 
have  they  put  the  vile  creature  now  ? " 

"Vile  creature,  mistress?"  Ned  repeated.  "Sure, 
he  says  that  in  his  own  country  he  is  a  great  lord  of 
land,  a  Sagamore  —  " 

"  I  would  he  were  back  in  his  own  country," 
Mistress  Hopkins  answered  sharply.  "  The  mur- 
derous wretch  !  I  shall  not  draw  a  breath  in  peace 
till  he  be  hence.  Here,  Ned,  'tis  little  enough  work 
you'll  do  if  you  go  forth,  do  you  stay  this  afternoon 
in  the  house  to  protect  us." 

There  was  an  instant  of  disappointed  silence  on 
Lister's  part,  then,  "  'Tis  you  she  means,  Ned 
Dotey,"  he  cried,  and,  without  staying  to  take  his 
cap,  bolted  out  at  the  door. 

Nor  was  this  the  only  desertion  which  Mistress 


Ii6  Soldier  Rigdale 

Hopkins  suffered ;  for,  at  their  first  opportunity, 
Dotey  and  Giles  also  slipped  away,  and  Miles 
stayed  behind  only  because  he  was  so  little  that  the 
mistress  shook  him  when  he  attempted  to  follow. 
But  speedily  he  had  a  bright  thought,  and  asked 
Mistress  Hopkins  if  perhaps,  since  she  was  afraid 
of  the  Indian,  she  would  not  like  him  to  fetch  Trug 
to  the  house  to  guard  them. 

Thus  Miles  was  allowed,  at  last,  to  bring  his  dog 
home,  and  so  grateful  was  he,  that  he  remained 
patiently  tending  Damaris  all  the  long  afternoon. 
He  found  a  certain  enjoyment  in  his  position,  how- 
ever ;  he  was  sole  man  in  the  cottage,  and  he  won- 
dered, should  other  Indians  follow  this  first  one,  if 
Mistress  Hopkins  wouldn't  let  him  take  one  of  the 
muskets  and  fight  for  her.  When  it  came  dark  at 
last,  he  knowingly  inspected  the  fastenings  of  the 
door,  and  told  Constance  not  to  be  afraid ;  he  and 
Trug  could  defend  them. 

Poor  Constance  needed  more  comfort  than  that, 
for  she  was  in  a  sorry  fright.  Her  hands  shook  as 
she  laid  the  table,  and,  when  a  step  sounded  crisply 
in  the  dooryard,  she  gave  a  nervous  cry  and  dropped 
the  pile  of  trenchers.  It  was  only  Ned  Lister, 
however,  who  stamped  in,  bareheaded  and  whistling 
cheerfully. 

"  You  have  come  back,  then,  since  'tis  supper- 
time?"  Mistress  Hopkins  greeted  him  sarcastically. 


Master  Hopkins's  Guest  117 

*  Nay,  I'm  not  hungry,"  Ned  answered,  as  he 
sauntered  over  to  the  fire  where  Miles  sat  with 
Damaris,  "  'tis  that  the  master  sent  me  ahead  to 
bid  you  make  ready  the  guest  chamber  and  the  bed 
of  state.  Our  Indian  lord  there,  the  Sagamore 
Samoset,  is  to  lodge  here  to-night." 

For  a  moment  Mistress  Hopkins  looked  at  the 
speaker  in  dumb  amazement.  "  If  Master  Hop- 
kins does  not  punish  you  roundly  for  such  a  lie, 
Edward  Lister,"  she  said  at  last,  deliberately,  "it 
will  not  be  for  want  of  my  urging  him." 

"  It's  the  truth,  though,"  Ned  answered  indiffer- 
ently. 

"  O  me ! "  Constance  cried,  with  a  sudden  ner- 
vous wail,  "  I  know  we'll  all  be  slain  ere  daybreak. 
O  dear ! "  She  turned  to  run  into  the  bedroom, 
when  Lister  caught  her  by  the  arm.  "  Don't  cry, 
Constance,"  he  urged ;  "  there's  no  need  to  fear. 
Captain  Standish  and  some  of  the  others  are  com- 
ing hither  to  spend  the  night  and  keep  watch. 
You'll  be  safe  enough." 

But  the  girl,  breaking  from  him,  vanished  into 
the  chamber,  whither  Mistress  Hopkins,  snatching 
up  Damaris,  followed  her ;  so,  for  some  moments, 
Miles  was  free  to  ask  questions  and  Ned  to  answer, 
as  it  liked  them  best.  But,  so  soon  as  Master 
Hopkins's  deliberate  step  sounded  on  the  door- 
stone,   Mistress    Hopkins    came  forth    and,  as   he 


n8  Soldier  Rigdale 

entered  the  living  room,  confronted  him  :  "  Is  that 
savage  to  be  lodged  here  to-night,  Stephen?  Among 
us,  where  my  children  are  ?  " 

"He  must  go  somewhere,  Elizabeth,"  the  master 
of  the  house  replied  unruffled.  "  He  is  set  to  stay 
among  us  for  the  night,  and  the  tide  is  out  so  we 
may  not  convey  him  on  shipboard.  We  can  lodge 
him  in  the  little  closet  next  our  chamber." 

"  He  shall  not  come  into  the  house  !  "  said  Mis- 
tress Hopkins,  with  her  thin  lips  set. 

"Edward  Lister,  do  you  spread  out  the  bed 
within  the  closet,"  Master  Hopkins  went  on  un- 
heedingly. 

With  a  wink  at  Miles,  Ned  crossed  the  room  in 
unusual  haste,  and  Miles,  taking  a  candle,  followed 
after  into  the  closet,  a  tiny  room  with  one  black 
window,  where  stood  an  old  chest  and  a  hogshead 
and  a  rolled-up  mattress,  which  Ned  began  leisurely 
to  spread  out.  "  What  think  you,  Miles  ? "  he 
whispered,  as  the  boy  closed  the  door  behind  him. 
"  It's  good  there  is  one  person  in  the  house  whom 
the  dame  cannot  rattle  off  as  she  list,  eh  ?  " 

Miles  nodded  vaguely,  his  attention  all  fixed  on 
the  least  details  of  the  commonplace  room  which 
now  had  a  fearful  interest  from  the  guest  it  was  to 
shelter.  The  thought  of  the  savage  stranger  filled 
the  place  with  such  awesome  fancies  that  he  could 
not  help  going  out  from  it  very  hastily  ahead  of 


Master  Hopkins's  Guest  119 

Lister,  who  grumbled  a  little  that  Miles  was  so 
speedy  to  be  off  with  the  candle. 

Once  in  the  bright  living  room,  however,  he  be- 
came very  brave  indeed,  and  wondered  to  Giles 
Hopkins  when  the  Sagamore  Samoset  would  come. 
His  mood  grew  the  bolder  when  the  elder  lad 
showed  him  a  dirk  knife  he  had  placed  under  his 
doublet.  "  For  there's  no  being  sure  with  these 
treacherous  savages,"  Giles  said  seriously. 

But  when  the  Sagamore  came  at  last,  the  boys 
found  that  the  Hopkins  household  would  be  well 
guarded,  for  with  him  were  not  only  Master  Hop- 
kins and  Dotey,  but  big  John  Alden  and  Captain 
Standish.  The  very  sight  of  the  latter  reassured 
Miles,  so  down  he  sat  on  the  floor  by  the  hearth, 
with  his  arm  round  Trug,  who,  as  soon  as  he  spied 
the  Indian,  bristled  the  hair  on  his  back  and  uttered 
a  throaty  growl. 

Mistress  Hopkins  and  Constance  and  the  two 
babies  kept  within  the  south  chamber ;  but  the 
men  by  themselves  were  enough  to  fill  the  living 
room.  There  were  but  two  stools,  besides  the  form 
on  the  hearth  and  a  chest  against  the  wall,  so  long- 
legged  Giles  must  curl  himself  up  on  the  floor  by 
Miles,  while  Ned  Lister  set  himself  upon  the  table. 
They  bade  the  Indian  be  seated  on  the  form  by  the 
fire,  right  over  against  Miles,  who,  be  sure,  stared 
at  him  with  eyes  wide  open. 


120  Soldier  Rigdale 

The  Sagamore  Samoset,  he  saw,  was  a  tall,  straight 
man,  of  complexion  like  an  English  gypsy,  smooth- 
faced, with  coarse  black  hair  that  fell  to  his  shoulders 
behind,  but  was  cut  before.  Since  his  coming  into 
the  settlement,  his  English  hosts  had  put  upon  him 
a  horseman's  coat,  which  he  wore  with  much  pride 
and  dignity  ;  indeed,  all  his  gestures  and  carriage 
were  not  only  decent,  but  of  a  certain  stateliness. 
"  Why,  he  is  somewhat  like  other  men,"  Miles 
whispered  softly  to  Giles,  but  Trug  grumbled  in 
his  throat. 

Only  one  candle  was  burning  in  the  room,  but 
the  firelight  cast  a  flickering  brightness  on  the  faces 
of  the  men.  Captain  Standish  and  Lister  and  the 
Indian  had  lighted  pipes  of  tobacco,  and  the  air 
was  so  heavy  with  the  smell  of  the  smoke  that 
Miles  half  drowsed,  but  through  his  drooping  eye- 
lids he  watched  his  English  comrades,  and  watched 
the  Indian.  Captain  Standish  was  sitting  adventu- 
rously right  on  the  form  beside  the  Sagamore,  and 
now  and  again  they  spoke  together.  Miles  noted 
that  in  the  Indian's  speech  came  strange  words, 
which  the  Captain  seemed  to  try  to  understand,  and 
once  or  twice  the  Captain  even  sought  to  make  use 
of  them  himself. 

Miles  wondered  at  this,  and  then  his  only  won- 
derment was  as  to  whether  he  had  been  asleep. 
The  logs  on  the  hearth  had  broken  into  red  embers  ; 


Master  Hopkins's  Guest  121 

the  men  had  risen  up  ;  and,  rubbing  the  heaviness 
from  his  eyes,  Miles  saw  Master  Hopkins  and  the 
Captain  usher  their  Indian  guest  into  the  little  closet 
room. 

Straightway  a  certain  tension  in  the  company 
seemed  to  slacken  ;  Giles  rose  stiffly  from  the  floor, 
and  Trug  put  down  his  head  upon  his  paws,  though 
he  still  kept  one  bright,  half-opened  eye  fixed  on  the 
door  through  which  the  Indian  had  gone.  With  a 
great  creaking  of  the  trestles,  Ned  Lister  dis- 
mounted from  the  table.  "  If  he  come  to  kill  us," 
he  said  in  a  low  tone  to  Alden,  "  do  you  run  in  and 
call  me  so  I  can  have  a  share  in  the  scuffle."  Then, 
stretching  himself  mightily,  he  disappeared  into  the 
north  bedroom,  where  the  serving  men  and  the  boys 
of  the  household  slept. 

"  Since  you  have  two  others  to  keep  watch  with 
you,  Master  Hopkins,"  spoke  the  Captain,  as  he 
took  down  his  hat  from  the  wall,  "  I'll  go  walk  a 
turn  about  the  hill.  I'll  be  back  ere  the  half-hour 
is  up." 

He  had  put  his  hand  to  the  latch,  when  Miles,  on 
the  impulse,  sprang  to  his  feet  and  ran  to  him. 
"  May  I   come  too,  sir  ?  "  he  whispered. 

"You,  Miles?  Why,  you  were  better  in  bed. 
Nay,  come  if  you  like." 

Out  of  doors  the  air  was  crispy  and  silent,  and 
pleasant  smelling  after  the  smoky  atmosphere  of  the 


122  Soldier  Rigdale 

crowded  room.  Overhead  the  stars  were  dense  and 
bright,  but  below,  the  lonely  little  settlement  lay  in 
darkness,  with  never  a  spark  of  a  candle  showing. 
"  How  late  is  it,  Captain  Standish  ?  "  Miles  asked, 
in  a  hushed  voice. 

"  I  should  say  it  was  near  on  to  midnight,"  the 
other  replied,  stepping  along  so  briskly  that  Miles's 
breath  for  talking  was  lost  in  the  effort  to  keep  pace 
with  him. 

Up  and  up  they  toiled ;  past  Goodman  Billing- 
ton's  cottage ;  past  the  black  cabin  where  Alden 
and  the  Captain  lived  ;  and  then  by  the  well-trodden 
path  up  the  sheer  hillside,  till  the  planking  of  the 
broad  platform  sounded  hollow  beneath  their  feet, 
and  they  stood  among  the  guns.  The  spark  in  the 
Captain's  pipe  gleamed  red  in  the  darkness,  but 
Miles  could  not  see  the  Captain's  features ;  he  per- 
ceived only  that  he  turned  his  face  from  quarter  to  t 
quarter,  and  remained  longest  gazing  into  the  black 
west,  where  the  ridge  of  hills  ran  jagged  against  the  • 
starry  sky. 

He  watched  the  Captain's  movements,  but  he  did 
not  venture  to  speak  till  Standish  himself  broke 
out :  "  Well,  there'll  come  no  bands  to  frighten  us 
this  night,  I  take  it.  We  can  march  home,  Miles. 
We've  a  fair  starlight  to  make  the  march  under,"  he 
added,  and,  as  they  stepped  from  the  platform  to  the 
yielding  turf,  lingered  an  instant  to  gaze  skyward.  • 


Master  Hopkins's  Guest  123 

"  Which  is  it  that  is  the  North  Star,  sir  ?  "  Miles 
hesitated. 

"  Why,  that  one  yonder,  lad.  You  know  it 
well." 

"  I  knew  'twas  the  North  Star  in  England.  I 
knew  not  if  'twere  the  same  here.  It  is  such  a  long 
ways  from  home." 

"  It's  the  same  sky,  Miles,  and  the  same  Heaven, 
I  take  it,  that  we  had  over  us  in  England." 

Miles  threw  back  his  head  and  once  more  stared 
up  into  the  sky,  that  was  so  vast  it  made  him  shrink 
and  feel  smaller  even  than  before.  He  sighed  a 
little,  he  scarcely  knew  why,  and  put  his  hand  on 
the  Captain's  sleeve.  Standish  took  Miles's  hand 
in  his,  and  so  kept  hold  on  him  as  they  came 
down  from  the  hill,  and  in  that  pressure  was  some- 
thing so  comforting  that  Miles  was  sorry  when  they 
reached  the  door  of  Master  Hopkins's  house. 

Within  was  heavy  air,  and  a  dull  fire,  and  sleepy 
faces ;  Giles  had  gone  to  lie  down  on  his  bed,  and 
it  did  not  need  the  Captain's  bidding  to  send  Miles 
blinking  after.  Once,  in  the  darkness,  he  was 
wakened  by  hearing  Lister  protest  inarticulately 
that  he  would  rather  have  his  throat  cut  in  his 
sleep  ten  times  over  than  rise  and  watch  ;  and  once 
Miles  guessed  hazily  that  some  one  was  shaking 
him,  and  he  tried  to  say, he  was  getting  up,  and  in 
the  midst  dropped  back  on  his  pillow.        ... 


124  Soldier  Rigdale 

At  the  last  the  dazzle  of  warm  sunlight  on  his 
face,  and  the  rattle,  rattle  of  trenchers,  brought  him 
staggering  and  blinking  to  his  feet.  Oh,  yes,  he 
remembered ;  the  Sagamore  Samoset  had  been  there 
last  night ;  but  he  was  not  afraid  of  him,  especially 
since  'twas  daylight ;  indeed,  he  wanted  to  see  him 
again,  so  out  he  rushed  into  the  living  room. 

"  Well,  sleepyhead  !  "  Constance  laughed  at  him, 
and  Mistress  Hopkins  was  beginning  to  scold  him 
because  he  had  not  awakened,  for  all  her  efforts,  till 
mid-morning,  when  Ned  Lister  sauntered  in.  "His 
Lordship  the  Indian  is  safe  departed,  Constance,"  he 
said  consolingly,  as  he  made  a  slow  business  of 
getting  an  axe  from  the  chimney  corner.  "  They 
gave  him  a  knife  and  a  bracelet  and  a  ring,  and  he 
is  gone  away  content." 

"A  good  riddance,  too!"  snapped  Mistress 
Hopkins.  "  And  now  do  you,  Edward  Lister, 
fetch  two  buckets  of  water  and  wash  out  the  place 
where  the  creature  lodged.  To  bring  such  heathen 
under  a  Christian  roof!  I  hope  I  never  set  eyes 
on  another  of  the  coppery  wretches  again." 

Ned  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said  nothing  till 
his  mistress  was  quite  done  ;  then  he  added  meekly  : 
"I  misremembered ;  he  said  he  was  coming  back 
again  in  a  night  or  two,  and  next  time  he  is  going 
to  bring  with  him  a  goodly  number  from  the  tribe 
of  the  Maasasoits." 


i 


CHAPTER   X 

THE    LORDS    OF    THE    SOIL 

SAMOSET  proved  as  good  as  his  word.  The 
very  next  morning,  for  all  it  was  Sunday, 
back  he  came,  and  with  him  five  other  tall 
Indians,  who  were  even  more  wonderful  fellows  than 
he,  for  they  were  clad  in  skins  of  deer  or  of  wild- 
cat, and  had  dressed  their  hair  with  feathers,  and 
painted  their  faces  in  black  streaks.  To  divert 
their  English  hosts,  they  sang  and  danced,  which 
Master  Hopkins  called  a  violation  of  the  sanctity  of 
the  day,  but  Miles  privately  thought  most  edifying. 
He  was  even  better  pleased  when  that  night,  at 
the  departure  of  his  comrades,  Samoset  was  ill  or 
feigned  to  be,  so,  spite  of  Mistress  Hopkins,  he 
must  be  sheltered  in  her  husband's  house.  Thus 
for  three  days  Miles  dwelt  under  the  same  roof 
with  a  live  Indian,  and  ate  at  the  same  board,  till 
he  came  to  have  not  the  least  tremor  at  sight  of  a 
copper-colored  face.  Indeed,  he  neglected  every 
task  he  was  set,  to  dog  the  Indian  guest  about  the 
street  and  make  shy  efforts  at  talk  with  him,  and 
he  was  heartily  grieved  when  at  last,  on  Wednesday, 
Samoset  went  away  into  the  forest. 
•     125 


126  Soldier  Rigdale 

"  No  doubt  he'll  come  again,  the  mistress  always 
makes  him  so  welcome,"  Ned  Lister  consoled 
Miles,  "and  each  time  he  goes,  for  his  further 
encouragement,  they  give  him  a  present.  This 
morning  they  gave  him  a  hat  and  shoes  and  stock- 
ings, and  a  shirt  and  a  loin  cloth.  I  take  it,  'tis 
because  I  am  what  Master  Hopkins  calls  a  son  of 
Belial  that  it  makes  me  to  laugh,  when  I  think  of 
Sagamore  Samoset  in  an  English  headpiece  with  a 
flapping  brim." 

"  I'm  mighty  sorry  he  went,"  sighed  Miles,  un- 
comforted.  "  I  was  learning  the  Indian  words, 
so  I  could  talk  to  him  presently,  like  Captain  Stan- 
dish.  c  Cossaquot,'  that  means  bow  ;  and  '  et  chos- 
sucke '  is  a  knife;  and  c  petuckquanocke '  is  bread; 
and  —  " 

Ned  yawned  suggestively,  and  fell  to  work  again. 
He  and  Miles  that  afternoon  were  busied  in  the 
spaded  garden  patch  at  the  north  end  of  the  door- 
yard,  where  they  were  pressing  the  seeds  into  the 
soft  earth.  The  sun  was  hot,  and,  as  Miles  worked, 
he  smeared  his  warm  face  with  his  fingers,  till  Ned 
assured  him  he  was  all  streaked  brown,  like  an 
Indian. 

But  though  it  was  hot  and  dirty  labor,  it  was  far 
manlier  than  to  be  ever  dandling  a  baby ;'  so  Miles 
toiled  on  earnestly,  spite  of  Ned's  indolent  example, 
and  did  not  pause  even  to  stretch  his  cramped  legs 


The  Lords  of  the  Soil  127 

or  straighten  his  aching  back  till  mid-afternoon. 
Then  he  started  up  at  a  noise  of  people  hurrying 
through  the  street,  the  sound  of  a  quick  footstep, 
the  rattle  of  the  house-door. 

"  'Tis  Master  Hopkins  has  taken  his  musket  and 
gone  forth,"  spoke  Ned,  who  was  lounging  farther 
down  the  garden.  "  Somewhat's  afoot."  Away  he 
went  to  look  into  the  matter,  and  Miles  ran  stiffly 
after. 

Out  in  the  street  the  men  and  boys,  and  even 
one  or  two  girls,  were  hastening  toward  the  bluff 
above  the  spring.  As  they  went,  a  confused  talk- 
ing spread  among  them,  from  which  Miles  learned 
that  yonder,  on  the  great  wooded  hill  across  the 
brook,  Indians  had  been  seen,  —  Indians  who 
brandished  their  bows  and  whetted  their  arrows  in 
defiance.  Captain  Standish  and  Master  Hopkins 
and  two  men  from  the  Mayflower  had  gone  down  to 
cross  the  brook  and  parley  with  them.  Look,  yon- 
der they  went  now  ! 

From  where  the  company  had  halted,  high  up 
beyond  Goodman  Cooke's  cottage,  Miles  could  see 
the  bright  river  and  the  hill  opposite,  thick  with 
unleaved  woods.  Up  its  base  wound  slowly  the 
little  band  of  Englishmen,  now  half-screened,  now 
wholly  visible  ;  but  Miles  looked  from  them,  higher 
up  the  slope,  where  the  bare  branches  were  agitated, 
as  if  something  moved   among   them.     "  'Tis   the 


128  Soldier  Rigdale 

savages ! "  said  one ;  but,  strain  his  eyes  as  he 
would,  Miles  saw  through  the  bushes  only  the  sad- 
colored  English  doublets. 

Yet,  with  an  anxiety  he  scarcely  comprehended, 
the  men  lingered  on  the  bluff,  watching  and  discuss- 
ing in  grave  tones,  till  the  Captain  and  his  fol- 
lowers came  toilsomely  up  the  path  from  the  spring. 
They  had  seen  naught ;  the  savages  had  not  suf- 
fered them  draw  nigh  them,  Captain  Standish  ex- 
plained, so  briefly  that  he  seemed  curt,  while  his 
puckered  brows  still  were  bent  on  the  slope  whence 
the  Indians  had  sent  their  defiance. 

Slowly  the  little  group  of  curious  and  troubled 
people  scattered,  some  of  the  weightier  ones  to 
speak  with  the  Governor  and  the  Captain,  others  to 
simpler  tasks.  Miles  went  back  to  his  garden,  but 
the  sunlight  had  now  left  that  corner  of  the  yard. 
The  great  hill,  where  stood  the  guns,  looked  black 
against  the  sky,  and  there  seemed  in  all  out-of- 
doors  a  menace  that  made  him  glad  at  dusk  to  get 
within  the  house.  Throughout  supper  the  men 
kept  from  speaking  of  the  savages  with  an  elabo- 
rateness that  made  their  silence  the  more  suspicious, 
and  the  unspoken  anxiety  wrought  on  Miles  till  at 
bedtime  he  smuggled  Trug  into  the  chamber  and 
made  the  dog  lie  near  him. 

Next  morning,  in  the  clear  sunlight,  Miles's 
courage  revived  mightily,  but  his  elders  still  looked 


The  Lords  of  the  Soil  129 

sober.  None  the  less,  whether  Indians  threatened 
or  no,  the  work  of  the  colony  must  be  done :  all 
the  morning  men  and  boys  trudged  about  their 
tasks,  though  none  went  far  afield ;  and  after  the 
noon  meal  the  men  gathered  once  more  at  the 
Common  House,  to  consider  the  public  business 
which  the  first  coming  of  Samoset  had  broken  off. 

Oceanus  was  ailing  that  afternoon  and  needed  his 
mother,  so  Miles  had  to  mind  Damaris  for  a  dreary 
hour.  As  he  sat  with  her  upon  the  doorstone,  he 
spied  a  noiseless  little  group  of  some  five  Indians 
passing  down  the  street,  and,  alert  at  once,  he 
begged  leave  to  run  see  what  might  happen  ;  but 
Mistress  Hopkins,  all  a-tremble  herself,  forbade 
him  venture  out  while  those  bloodthirsty  wretches 
were  abroad,  and  even  made  him  come  in  and  shut 
the  door  fast. 

But  speedily  there  sounded  a  rattling  knock  to 
which  the  mistress  must  open,  and  in  came  the 
men  of  the  household,  so  hurriedly  that  straight- 
way the  living  room  was  in  confusion.  For  the 
great  Sagamore  Massasoit,  with  his  brother  Qua- 
dequina  and  sixty  warriors,  was  at  hand,  just  across 
the  brook.  One  of  the  Indians,  Squanto,  who 
could  speak  English,  had  gone  back  to  bid  him 
enter  the  settlement,  and  the  men  of  the  colony 
must  get  under  arms  to  receive  him ;  perhaps  even 
to  defend  themselves, Master  Hopkins  let  a  word  fall. 


130  Soldier  Rigdale 

There  followed  a  great  throwing-on  of  buff- 
jackets  and  buckling  of  sword-belts,  while  Giles, 
newly  appointed  drummer  to  the  colony,  rattled 
over  the  pots  and  kettles  in  a  meaningless  search 
for  his  drumsticks,  which  some  one  had  surely 
moved  from  the  place  where  he  left  them.  Oceanus 
wailed,  Damaris,  indignant  at  being  neglected, 
screamed  aloud,  Trug  barked,  and  Mistress  Hop- 
kins scolded,  but  somehow,  in  the  midst  of  the 
hurly-burly,  the  three  men  equipped  themselves 
and  tramped  away ;  and  right  at  their  heels  went 
Giles,  with  the  drumsticks  which  Constance  had 
found. 

But  the  door  closed  behind  them  and  shut 
Miles,  a  soldier  in  name  only,  in  with  the  women 
and  children  for  another  tedious  hour.  Damaris 
found  little  rest  in  his  arms  those  minutes,  while  he 
ran  from  the  western  window,  whence  he  could  see 
a  bit  of  the  street  and  the  path  to  the  spring,  to  the 
eastern  window,  whence,  far  down  the  street,  he  be- 
held the  men  gathered  in  martial  line,  all  in  armor, 
which  glimmered  bravely  in  the  afternoon  sun. 

He  was  still  gazing  down  the  street  when  Con- 
stance, who  had  ventured  to  the  other  window, 
called  to  him  in  a  terrified  voice :  "  Miles !  Oh, 
Miles!  Come  hither.  'Tis  Indians  indeed.  Hun- 
dreds of  them  !  " 

With  no  wish  to  see  further,  the  girl  drew  away 


The   Lords  of  the  Soil  131 

from  the  western  window,  and  Miles  thrust  eagerly 
into  her  place.  Yes,  there  were  Indians  indeed, 
swarms  of  them,  it  seemed  at  first  sight,  so  he 
flinched  back  a  little  from  the  casement.  For  they 
were  filing  past  the  house,  and  that  brought  them 
so  near  that  Miles  could  see  even  the  grotesque 
figures  in  which  their  faces  were  painted.  But  soon 
he  perceived  English  musketeers  marshalling  them, 
and  he  saw,  too,  that  the  savages  were  unarmed. 
Their  mission  must  be  peaceful,  he  judged ;  so,  eager 
and  unafraid,  he  stared  at  them,  and  was  sorry  when 
the  last  one  disappeared  down  the  street. 

Just  then,  as  he  turned  from  the  window,  sounded 
the  tap,  tap  of  a  drum.  "It  is  the  Governor  and 
the  rest  of  the  men  with  drum  and  trumpet  march- 
ing up  the  street,"  spoke  Constance  from  the  eastern 
casement.  "  They  have  led  the  savages  into  the 
unfinished  cottage  by  the  Common  House,  and  now 
they  are  going  in  to  them." 

Miles,  at  her  side,  squirmed  with  impatience. 
"  There's  Jack  yonder  beneath  the  cottage  window," 
he  exclaimed,  "  and  Francis  and  Joe.  And  there's 
such  a  deal  to  see.  And  I'm  sure  they  are  all 
good,  harmless  Indians."  He  gave  a  glance  toward 
the  bedroom,  where  he  could  hear  Mistress  Hop- 
kins lulling  Oceanus,  then  whispered  Constance : 
"Won't  you  mind  Damaris  ?  I'll  tell  you  all  about 
it  when  I  come  back." 


132  Soldier   Rigdale 

"  I  see  not  why  you  wish  to  go  forth  at  such  a 
time,  but  I'll  do 't  for  you.  Run  quick,  ere  step- 
mother stop  you,"  answered  kind-hearted  Constance ; 
and  away  sped  Miles. 

Still,  he  was  too  late  to  share  in  the  main  excite- 
ment, for  when  he  came  into  the  yard  of  the  un- 
finished house,  he  found  the  door  fast  shut  and  all 
the  great  folk,  white  or  copper-colored,  gone  within. 
Only  two  musketeers  remained  outside  to  keep 
watch,  and  Edward  Dotey,  who  was  one  of  them, 
proved  so  unsympathetic  as  to  cuff  Francis  Billing- 
ton  when  he  tried  to  get  a  peep  in  at  the  window. 
Much  discouraged,  for  where  saucy  Francis  failed 
to  go  there  was  no  hope  for  the  others,  the  small 
boys  of  the  colony  gathered  in  a  patient  little  group 
in  the  dooryard  to  talk  of  these  great  happenings. 

"  Master  Winslow  has  gone  out  amongst  the 
Indians,"  said  Jack,  "and  they're  holding  him  as 
hostage  for  their  old  King.  'Twas  right  valiant  of 
him  —  " 

"  Pooh  !  The  Captain  would  'a'  gone  just  as 
quick,"  Miles  retorted  jealously.  "  There's  naught 
to  be  afraid  of,  anyway.  I  would  I  were  Giles 
Hopkins,  and  stood  there  in  the  house  with  the 
savages." 

"  My  father  is  in  there  too,"  spoke  little  Love 
Brewster,  who  had  attached  himself  to  Miles,  "  but 
he  is  so  good  I  do  not  think  even  an  Indian  would 


The  Lords  of  the  Soil  133 

hurt  him.  But  there  were  very  many  of  them,  and 
if  my  mother  had  come  close  to  see,  I  am  sure  she 
would  have  been  afraid.  Perhaps  I  were  best  go 
home  and  tell  her  there's  no  need  to  fear.  You 
come  with  me,  pray  you,  Miles." 

Young  Rigdale  had  no  wish  to  take  his  eyes 
from  the  door  of  the  house,  but  plainly  the  little 
boy  was  fearful  enough  to  want  his  company  up  the 
street,  so  he  went  with  him,  and  at  the  Elder's 
cottage  stayed  a  moment  to  reassure  the  women 
grandly. 

Dolly  had  no  interest  in  Indians,  since  she  found 
in  the  case  of  Samoset  that  they  did  not  carry  about 
with  them  a  store  of  pretty  baskets,  such  as  the  one 
her  father  had  brought  her ;  but  Priscilla  Mullins 
was  eager  to  know  everything,  and  questioned  Miles 
and  listened  to  him  most  flatteringly,  till  he  offered: 
I  If  you  wish  to  go  forth  and  view  the  Indians, 
Prisciik,  I'll  go  and  take  care  of  you." 

Whereat  young  Mistress  Mullins  laughed,  and, 
slipping  her  hand  under  his  chin,  kissed  him  for  his 
courtesy,  "  like  a  baby." 

Red  and  indignant,  Miles  flung  out  of  the  house: 
then  forgot  the  insult,  as  he  saw  Giles,  with  a  platter 
in  his  hand,  hurrying  up  the  street  from  Governor 
Carver's  cottage.  "  What  are  you  doing  there  ?  " 
he  called,  running  to  intercept  the  elder  lad. 

"Fresh  meat/'  panted  Giles.     "The  Governor 


134  Soldier  Rigdale 

wished  it  for  the  King.  I  had  this  bit  of  a  goose 
from  Mistress  Carver,  and  now  I've  remembered  a 
mallard  I  saw  stepmother  set  to  boil." 

It  took  him  very  few  minutes  to  hurry  into  his 
father's  house,  and  out  again  with  a  second  larger 
platter  balanced  in  one  hand,  but,  short  as  the  space 
was,  Miles  had  laid  a  plan.  Stepping  up  to  Giles, 
he  took  from  him  Mistress  Carver's  dish  of  meat. 
"  Let  me  aid  you,"  he  proffered  innocently. 

"  So  that's  what  you're  scheming,"  laughed  Giles  ; 
but  he  let  Miles,  under  that  pretext,  come  at  his 
side  down  the  street,  past  the  little  group  of  envious 
boys,  up  the  doorstone  of  the  unfinished  cottage, 
and  so  into  the  very  council  chamber. 

The  room  was  close  and  hazy  with  smoke  from 
the  pipes  of  tobacco  that  the  King  and  the  chief  of 
the  English  puffed  at,  but,  spite  of  the  dimness, 
Miles  speedily  made  out  the  shapes  of  the  Indians. 
Black,  red,  yellow,  and  white,  their  faces  were 
partly  or  wholly  smeared  with  paint,  and,  through 
the  wavering  smoke-wreaths,  their  look  was  so  grim 
that  for  an  instant  he  hesitated  on  the  threshold.  - 

But  Giles  went  on,  so  he  followed,  across  the 
room,  between  what  seemed  endless  rows  of  Indians 
in  hairy  skins  who  stood  or  squatted  on  the  floor, 
up  to  the  table,  where  sat  a  tall,  stalwart  savage. 
Imitating  Giles,  Miles  set  down  his  dish  of  meat 
before  him,  and,  with  an  agitated  bow,  drew  back  to 


The  Lords  of  the  Soil  135 

the  wall,  where  he  wedged  himself  in  between  Lister 
and  young  Hopkins.  "  That's  the  King,  yonder 
at  table,"  the  latter  whispered  him  softly. 

He  did  not  look  at  all  as  Miles  thought  a  king 
should  look,  that  savage  at  the  table.  He  wore  a 
scant  covering  of  skins,  —  a  dress  like  that  of  his 
followers,  save  that  the  King  had  also  about  his 
neck  a  great  chain  of  white  bone  beads.  His  face 
was  painted  a  dark  red ;  and  face  and  head  alike 
were  oiled  so  he  looked  greasy ;  he  fed  untidily 
with  his  fingers,  and  sometimes,  when  he  would 
give  a  morsel  to  one  of  his  followers,  rent  the  meat 
with  his  hands. 

But,  for  all  he  seemed  so  busy  with  feeding,  his 
quick  eyes  were  darting  about  the  smoky  room, — 
now  resting  on  the  Governor,  who  sat  at  table  near 
him ;  now  on  the  English  musketeers  who  lined 
the  walls,  —  and,  to  Miles's  thinking,  the  King 
looked  on  them  timorously ;  now  on  his  own  fol- 
lowers, who  crowded  silently  about  him.  One  of 
the  Indians,  squatting  on  the  floor,  held  in  his 
hands  the  English  trumpet,  on  which  he  tried  to 
blow,  and,  for  a  moment,  the  King  paused  to  hark 
with  a  child's  wonder  to  his  efforts,  then  once  more 
began  tearing  Mistress  Hopkins's  mallard. 

When  nothing  but  bones  was  left  of  the  bird, 
Giles  slipped  the  platters  from  the  table,  and  now 
the  serious  work  of  the  conference  seemed  to  begin. 


136  Soldier  Rigdale 

Up  from  the  floor  behind  the  table,  where  they  had 
sat,  rose  two  savages,  who  should  interpret  between 
Massasoit  and  the  Governor ;  the  one  was  a  stran- 
ger, probably  that  Squanto  whom  Master  Hopkins 
had  mentioned  ;  the  other,  Miles's  old  acquaintance, 
Samoset.  A  transformed  Samoset,  however,  with 
an  English  felt  hat  low  on  his  brows  and  an  Eng- 
lish shirt  worn  over  his  meagre  native  garments 
after  the  manner  of  a  carter's  frock.  Ned  Lister, 
standing  rigid  and  soldierly  against  the  wall,  took 
Miles  a  sudden  dig  in  the  ribs,  and  winked  at 
him  with  a  "  Didn't  I  tell  you  as  much  "  expres- 
sion. 

Miles,  on  his  good  behavior,  neither  looked  at 
him  nor  smiled,  but  fixed  his  gaze  on  the  men 
about  the  table.  The  sun  had  now  shifted  down 
the-  sky,  so  a  great  bar  of  light  thrust  in  at  the 
western  window.  The  yellow  brightness  flecked 
across  Elder  Brewster's  grizzled  head,  made  Gov- 
ernor Carver's  stiff  ruff  even  more  dazzlingly  white, 
and  gleamed  back  again  from  Captain  Standish's 
steel  corselet.  It  rested,  too,  on  the  papers  which 
Master  William  Bradford  had  laid  on  the  table 
before  him,  but  Master  Bradford's  grave  face,  as  he 
bent  forward  to  write  what  the  Governor  bade,  was 
in  shadow.  The  features  of  Massasoit,  too,  were 
dark  to  see,  but  here  and  there,  as  the  sunlight, 
bursting   through   the   smoke,   wavered    across   the 


The  Lords  of  the  Soil  137 

room,  the  painted  face  or  coppery  bare  shoulders  of 
one  of  his  followers  stood  out. 

The  two  interpreters  jerked  out  the  gutturals  of 
their  outlandish  tongue,  to  which  the  King  grunted 
assent,  or  now  and  again  the  Governor  spoke  a 
measured  word.  But  outside  the  window  a  bird 
was  singing  in  a  high,  purling  strain  ;  and  Miles 
wondered  if  it  were  a  fat,  red-breasted  bird,  and 
thought  more  on  its  song  and  on  the  motes  that 
swam  in  the  sunlight,  than  on  what  the  Governor 
was  saying. 

After  all,  he  was  glad  when  the  conference  broke 
J  up.  He  was  tired  of  standing  stiffly,  and  the  air  of 
the  room  was  heavy  ;  and  the  Indians,  when  they 
neither  ate  nor  played  with  trumpets,  but  just  sat 
stolid,  were  a  bit  stupid.  He  scuffed  softly  but 
impatiently  at  the  rear  of  the  train,  as  the  company 
filed  forth ;  the  Governor  and  the  King;  side  by 
side,  went  first,  and  then,  all  in  some  semblance  of 
order,  the  Indian  warriors  and  the  English  leaders 
and  soldiery. 

Outside,  a  guard  of  honor  formed  about  the 
Governor  and  his  guest,  and  gave  them  fitting 
escort  to  the  brook ;  but  Miles  remained  behind 
and  roused  the  envy  of  his  mates,  with  an  account 
of  what  he  had  seen,  till,  in  fickle  fashion,  they 
forsook  him  at  the  coming  of  a  second  guest, 
Quadequina,  the  brother  of  Massasoit,  who,  in  his 


138  Soldier  Rigdale 

turn,  would  have  a  taste  of  English  hospitality. 
He  could  not,  however,  compare  in  dignity  and 
importance  with  Massasoit ;  he  was  just  a  tall, 
comely  young  savage,  who  liked  English  biscuit 
and  strong  waters,  but  liked  the  English  muskets 
so  little  that  his  hosts  good-naturedly  laid  them 
aside.  Massasoit  was  not  cowardly  like  that,  Miles 
assured  his  comrades;  Massasoit  was  every  inch  a 
king,  and  it  was  a  mighty  honor  to  have  been  in. 
the  same  room  with  him. 

Quadequina  had  been  but  a  short  time  gone,  anc 
the  long  shadows  were  filling  the  river  valley  with 
a  grayness,  when  back  across  the  brook,  quite  un- 
ruffled by  his  long  detention,  came  Master  Edward 
Winslow.  His  fellow-colonists  might  be  glad  to 
see  him,  and  he  to  return  unscathed  to  them,  but 
he  carried  it  laughingly.  He  was  all  sound,  save 
that  he  was  uncommon  hungry,  —  Miles,  following 
admiringly,  caught  a  scrap  of  his  speech  to  Captain 
Standish,  —  the  Indians  had  tried  to  buy  the  armor 
off  his  back  and  the  sword  from  his  side,  and  he 
knew  not  but  he  might  have  sold  them  for  a  mess 
of  pottage,  only  he  saw  no  such  savory  viand  among 
the  savages,  nor  anything,  indeed,  but  groundnuts. 

Now  that  Master  Winslow  was  returned,  the 
colonists  released  the  Indians  whom  they  had  held 
as  hostages  for  him,  and  sent  them  away.  Save 
only  Samoset  and  Squanto,  no  Indians  were  suffered 


The  Lords  of  the  Soil  139 

i  to  remain  in  the  settlement,  but  the  rumor  went 
that  King  Massasoit  and  all  his  people  had  en- 
camped for  the  night  on  the  wooded  hill  across  the 
brook,  so  a  strict  watch  was  set. 

"  Do  you  think  there  will  be  fighting  yet  ? " 
Miles  questioned  Giles,  as  they  walked  home  to 
supper.  "  Quadequina  was  afeard  of  our  muskets. 
I  take  it,  we  could  beat  those  Indians." 

"  To  be  sure,  there'll  be  no  fighting,"  answered 
Giles,  as  he  tucked  his  drum  under  one  arm  in  a 
professional  way.  "  We've  struck  a  truce  with  the 
savages." 

Later,  at  supper,  Miles  heard  it  all  explained. 
This  was  a  dolorous  meal,  for  the  meat  had  been 
devoured  by  his  Majesty,  Massasoit,  and  Mistress 
Hopkins  was  ill-tempered  and  rated  Miles  for  run- 
ning away  that  afternoon,  and,  to  add  to  her  dis- 
comfort, Samoset  came  blandly  to  sup  with  his  old 
entertainers.  "  This  has  been  an  ill  day  such  as  I 
wish  never  to  see  the  like  of  again,"  fretted  the 
poor  woman. 

"  It  is  a  happy  day  for  our  colony,"  said  Master 
Hopkins  gravely.  "  Do  you  not  realize,  Elizabeth, 
that  we  have  this  afternoon  made  a  peace  with  our 
heathen  neighbors  that,  by  the  will  of  Heaven, 
shall  prove  lasting  ?  King  Massasoit  has  covenanted 
that  none  of  his  people  shall  do  us  harm  as  we  go 
abroad ;  and,  if  he  be  attacked,  we  shall  aid  in  his 


140  Soldier  Rigdale 

defense,  or  if  other  tribe  of  savages  assail  us,  he 
shall  do  us  the  like  service.  Yea,  the  hand  of 
Providence  has  been  with  us  this  day.  Yesternight 
it  was  all  menace ;  but  to-night  we  can  hope  for 
peace." 

Miles,  in  his  place  at  table,  looked  at  Samoset, 
very  solemn  in  his  funny  shirt  and  hat,  and,  blink- 
ing sleepily  at  the  candle,  took  little  concern  for 
the  earnestness  of  Master  Hopkins's  words.  He 
Scarcely  realized  that  this  was  almost  the  second 
founding  day  of  New  Plymouth ;  but  he  did  know 
that  he  had  stood  within  arm's  reach  of  King 
Massasoit,  an  exploit  of  which  no  other  boy  in  the 
colony  could  boast ;  and,  when  he  went  to  bed,  he 
dreamed  all  night  of  red  and  blue  and  green 
Indians. 


CHAPTER  XI 

WHEN    THE    GOOD    SHIP    SAILED 

EVEN  Mistress  Hopkins  must  at  last  some- 
what overcome  her  fear  of  the  savages,  else 
her  life  would  have  been  miserable  beyond 
endurance.  For  Massasoit  having  plainly  made 
the  treaty  in  good  faith,  his  people  were  ready  at 
all  times  to  visit  their  English  allies  and  eat  of  their 
food.  Coppery  faces  grew  so  common  a  sight  in 
the  single  street  of  New  Plymouth  that  each  boy 
in  the  colony  had  his  own  little  tale  of  a  friendly 
Indian  encounter,  and  Miles  Rigdale  was  no  longer 
alone  in  his  experiences. 

Still  further  to  rob  Miles  of  his  prestige  among 
his  fellows,  his  own  particular  Indian,  the  Sagamore 
Samoset,  with  his  hat  and  his  shirt,  which  he  used 
in  wet  weather  to  remove  carefully,  lest  they  be 
damaged,  took  himself  off  to  his  own  land  to  the 
eastward ;  and  Miles  found  no  one  to  fill  his  place. 

To  be  sure,  Plymouth  had  now  a  resident  pen- 
sioner in  the  Indian  Squanto,  but  he  lived  with 
Master  Bradford,  and  so  was  accessible  to  other 
boys  as  well  as  to  Miles.     "  I   see  not  why  he  is 

i4i 


142  Soldier  Rigdale 


let  dwell  among  us,"  the  latter  said  jealously,  in  the 
early  days  of  Squanto's  stay. 

"  Because,  if  he  were  any  but  a  heathen,  one 
might  say  this  land  where  we  have  planted  belongs 
to  him,"  Master  Hopkins  made  a  brief  explanation, 
which  to  Miles  was  no  explanation  at  all. 

But  later,  of  a  morning  when  Master  Hopkins's 
force  of  laborers  was  busied  in  building  a  fence 
round  the  garden  patch,  Giles,  who  had  listened  to 
the  talk  of  his  elders,  took  the  trouble  to  set  forth 
the  substance  of  it  to  Miles.  "You'll  understand, 
this  Squanto  truly  belongs  at  Plymouth.  Back  in 
the  time  when  an  Indian  village,  Patuxet,  stood 
where  we  have  settled,  he  dwelt  here.  But  there 
came  an  Englishman  named  Hunt  —  " 

"  Who  was  rather  more  of  a  knave  than  even  a 
trader  should  be,"  parenthesized.  Ned  Lister,  who, 
seated  comfortably  on  the  ground  near  by,  was 
hammering  the  palings  together. 

"  He  was  a  scoundrel,"  said  Giles,  warmly.  "  He 
toled  Squanto  and  nineteen  others  from  Patuxet,  and 
some  from  among  the  Nausets,  on  board  his  ship, 
pretending  he  would  truck  with  them  ;  and  then  he 
hoisted  sail  and  steered  away  for  Spain,  where  he 
sold  them  all  for  twenty  pound  apiece.  But  some 
how  this  fellow  Squanto  made  shift  to  reach  England, 
where  a  good  merchant  of  London  cared  for  him. 
'Twas  there  he  came  by  the  knowledge  of  our  tongue 


When  the  Good  Ship   Sailed  143 

that  he  has.  And  at  last  they  sent  him  back  hither 
.  to  his  own  country  ;  but  meantime  the  plague  had 
been  among  them  at  Patuxet,  and  all  were  dead." 

"  The  Lord  removed  the  heathen  to  make  way 
for  a  better  growth,"  said  Dotey,  who  had  just  come 
thither  with  an  armful  of  fresh  palings. 

"  Truly  ?  "  muttered  Ned  Lister.  "  Then  I'm 
thinking  the  Lord  in  His  wisdom  laid  His  hand 
pretty  heavily  on  the  poor  silly  savages  just  for  our 
profit." 

There  was  little  enough  love  already  between 
Lister  and  Dotey,  so  Giles  headed  off  a  possibly 
bitter  argument  by  continuing  hastily  :  "  So,  as  my 
father  says,  Squanto  is,  in  a  way,  the  owner  of  the 
land  here,  and  as  such  has  a  right  to  shelter  and  food 
amongst  us." 

Miles  listened  to  this  story  with  a  grave,  stolid 
face,  such  as  the  others  kept,  and  made  no  word  of 
comment.  But  afterward  he  thought  much  of  what 
had  been  told  him,  and  wondered  if  Squanto  had 
had  a  wife  and  copper-colored  babies,  and  had  come 
home  to  find  them  dead.  He  felt  sorry  for  the  poor, 
lone  Indian,  and  watched  him  with  new  sympathy ; 
but  to  all  appearances  Squanto  was  more  occupied 
in  consuming  English  biscuit  and  butter  than  in 
grieving  for  his  lost  friends. 

Whether  or  no  he  had  a  claim  upon  the  English, 
the  Indian  speedily  showed  himself  able  to  repay 


144  Soldier  Rigdale 

them  for  any  kindness.  He  told  the  men  how  they 
must  wait  yet  some  days  before  they  planted  their 
corn,  and  how  there  would  then  be  plenty  of  fish  in 
the  river,  which  they  must  set  with  the  seed  ;  and 
much  more  that  was  useful.  But  nothing  of  the 
Indian's  arts  impressed  Miles  so  much  as  his  prowess 
in  eel-catching,  for  he  would  go  often  into  the  forest 
and  return,  after  a  few  hours,  with  fat,  sweet  eels,  as 
many  as  he  could  lift  in  one  hand. 

Of  an  afternoon  in  April,  nearly  a  fortnight  after 
the  coming  of  Massasoit,  Ned  Lister  and  Giles  Hop- 
kins went  to  the  southward  with  Squanto  on  such 
a  fishing  trip,  and,  as  Miles  was  very  eager  to  share 
in  it,  they  let  him  come  too.  Their  course  took 
them  over  steep,  wooded  hills,  where  always  they 
had  blue  water  close  on  the  left  hand,  and,  looking 
back  over  their  shoulders,  could  see  the  bay  of 
Plymouth,  with  its  flanking  headlands.  A  tender 
leafage  was  upon  the  trees,  and  in  the  southern  hol- 
lows, where  the  birds  sang,  the  air  was  warm ;  but 
on  each  hilltop  a  chillier  blast  stung  in  the  faces  of 
the  fishermen  and  urged  them  to  trudge  more  briskly. 

At  length  they  came  to  a  gully,  where  two  hills 
curved  into  each  other,  and  descended  it,  half  run- 
ning, to  the  bank  of  a  small  river  that  flowed  sea- 
ward through  a  level  reach.  Here  was  where  the 
eels  dwelt,  Squanto  gave  his  companions  to  under- 
stand ;  and  then,  without  spear  or  any  implement, 


When  the  Good  Ship  Sailed  145 

he  waded  gently  into  the  quiet  water.  The  three 
English-born,  from  the  bank,  watched  him  intently, 
yet  they  scarcely  realized  how  he  did  it,  when  he 
suddenly  made  a  swift  dart  forward,  and  rose  with 
a  long,  slimy  thing  writhing  in  his  hands. 

"  Do  you  just  tread  'em  out  with  your  feet, 
Squanto  ? "  Ned  queried  after  a  time,  as,  keeping 
pace  with  the  savage,  they  trailed  along  the  bank. 

When  the  Indian  gave  an  "  Um "  that  implied 
assent,  Ned  presently  suggested  :  "  Say  we  venture 
it,  lads.  It  has  a  simple  seeming.  Tell  us,  Squanto, 
can  a  white  man  take  eels  that  way  ?  " 

"  White  man  try,"  advised  Squanto,  stolidly.  He 
had  caught  enough  for  a  mess,  so  he  probably 
thought  that  the  splashings  of  the  English  fellows 
would  do  no  harm  now. 

Ned  and  Giles,  stripping  off  shoes  and  stockings, 
waded  in ;  and  Miles,  not  to  be  outdone,  followed 
after.  The  water  felt  stingingly  cold  against  his  bare 
legs,  and  set  his  teeth  chattering  so  he  could  not 
talk.  The  very  ooze  of  the  river  bed  was  clammy ; 
and  then  he  suddenly  found  his  tongue  and  gave  a 
frightened  scream,  as  his  toes  touched  something 
that  rolled  beneath  them. 

"  Did  you  take  one,  Miles  ?  "  cried  Giles  Hop- 
kins, splashing  to  the  spot. 

"  I  d-d-don't  know,"  chattered  Miles,  from  the 
shore  where  he  had  sought  refuge. 


146  Soldier  Rigdale 

Giles  spattered  to  and  fro  a  moment.  "  'Twas 
naught  but  an  old  branch,"  he  announced  con- 
temptuously. 

"  It  was  an  eel,"  retorted  Miles,  "  but,  to  be  sure, 
he  will  not  stand  there  the  day  long  till  you  choose 
to  come  seek  him." 

With  that  he  forced  himself  to  put  his  purpling 
feet  into  the  water  again,  but,  spite  of  this  brave 
showing,  Ned  and  Giles  would  chaff  him  on  his 
flight,  and  even  Squanto  looked  amused  at  the  con- 
duct of  the  youngest  of  his  allies. 

Yet,  for  all  they  were  so  ready  to  laugh  at  him, 
Miles  noted  his  English  comrades  did  not  take  a 
single  eel,  and  that  gave  him  a  kind  of  comfort. 
But  even  then  there  was  little  pleasure  in  wading 
through  the  icy  water,  in  the  expectation  of  stepping 
on  a  soft,  squirming  thing ;  so  he  was  not  sorry 
when  Ned  gave  the  order  to  take  up  the  homeward 
march. 

The  east  wind,  that  had  turned  chillier  as  sunset 
drew  on,  smote  bleakly  on  the  hilltops,  and  in  the 
hollows,  where  the  shadows  were  creeping  through 
the  undergrowth,  the  warmth  had  died  out  of  the 
air.  The  gathering  darkness  pressed  ever  closer 
upon  the  fishermen  ;  the  sea  on  their  right  turned 
gray  and  dim  ;  the  blue  faded  from  the  sky,  and 
the  green  of  the  distant  headlands  of  the  bay 
changed  to  black.     Just  off  the  beach  point  they 


When  the  Good  Ship  Sailed  147 

could  dimly  make  out  a  dark  bulk,  where  a  single 
speck  of  light  showed  —  the  old  ship  Mayflower. 

"  They  say  she'll  be  hoisting  sail  for  home  soon," 
Giles  spoke,  as  they  trudged  through  the  twilight, 
with  a  surety  that  his  comrades  knew  to  what  he 
referred. 

"  So  soon  as  the  wind  swings  round  into  the 
west,"  answered  Ned.  "  Then  she'll  up  sail,  and 
it's  c  Eastward,  ho  ! '  " 

Then  presently,  in  the  dusk,  Ned  began  whistling 
a  sorry  little  tune,  unlike  those  he  was  wont  to  sing, 
very  slow  and  monotonous,  with  a  sudden  rising  to 
a  high  note  and  as  sudden  a  sinking  again,  like  the 
sharp  indrawing  of  breath  in  a  sob.  "What  song  is 
that,  Ned?"  Miles  asked,  because  he  would  rather 
hear  Lister  talk  than  whistle  that  pitiable  strain. 

"'Tis  the  Hanging-tune,  Miley  ;  the  one  to  which 
they  set  the  last  confessions  of  men  who  are  con- 
demned to  die."  He  fell  to  whistling  once  more 
and  half  humming  the  words  :  — 

"  '  Fortune,  my  foe, 

Why  dost  thou  frown  on  me  ? '  " 

and  Miles  harked  to  the  tune  till  it  went  crying 
itself  through  his  head. 

Next  morning  it  still  came  back  to  him  keenly, — 
the  walk  in  the  twilight,  the  look  of  the  distant  ship, 
the  woful  minor    of  the   Hanging-tune.     For    the 


148  Soldier  Rigdale 

wind  was  hauling  round  to  westward,  and  of  a  sud- 
den Indians  and  gardening  and  house-building  ceased 
to  be  matters  that  men  talked  of  in  the  street ;  in- 
stead they  spoke  of  the  going  of  the  ship  that  had 
borne  them  from  England. 

Already  she  had  stayed  longer  on  their  shores 
than  any  had  expected,  because  of  the  sickness  that 
had  been  among  her  crew.  But  now,  on  shore  and 
on  ship,  the  sickness  was  stayed ;  just  half  the  set- 
tlers lay  buried  on  the  bluff,  and  the  crew  of  the 
Mayflower  mustered  in  diminished  numbers,  yet 
enough  survived  and  in  recovered  health  to  work 
the  ship  back  to  England.  With  the  first  favoring 
wind  she  would  set  forth  upon  her  voyage ;  and 
with  that  bit  of  sure  information  went  another,  that 
Master  Jones  had  offered  to  take  home  in  her  any 
one  of  the  settlers  who  might  wish  to  go. 

"  Right  generous  of  him,  is  't  not  ? "  Ned  Lister 
spoke  bitterly  to  Miles.  "  Who  does  he  think  is 
going  with  him  ?  The  Elder  and  the  Governor 
and  Master  Bradford,  all  the  chiefs,  if  they  showed 
their  faces  in  England,  they'd  be  clapped  up  in 
prison.  And  the  lesser  men,  or  even  our  great 
Master  Hopkins  here,  they've  ventured  all  their 
substance  in  this  plantation.  If  they  go  back,  they 
must  starve  or  beg  in  London  streets,  and  'tis  as 
easy  and  pleasant  to  starve  here.  There's  none  in 
the  settlement  I  know  of  has  the  wish  to  go  home, 


When  the  Good  Ship  Sailed  149 

save  myself,  and  I  cannot  go,  because  I've  sold  my 
time  to  Hopkins,  the  more  fool  I  !  " 

"  Why  did  you  ever  come  hither,  if  you  hate  it 
so  ?  "  Miles  questioned. 

"  Because  a  penny  fell  wrong  side  up,"  Ned  an- 
swered. "  I  woke  up  in  London  one  fine  morning, 
with  no  shirt  to  my  back  and  but  one  penny  in  my 
pocket.  'It's  either  'list  for  the  wars,  or  get  me 
into  a  new  country  and  start  afresh,'  I  said,  so  I 
tossed  up  the  penny,  —  heads  Bohemia,  tails  Amer- 
ica. It  fell  tails;  so  I  sold  Stephen  Hopkins  my 
three  years'  time  in  return  for  my  passage  over. 
And  a  precious  fool  I  was  !  Faith,  I'd  liefer  dig 
ditches  in  England  than  play  even  at  governor  here. 
And  so  soon  as  my  time's  out !  " 

Miles  listened  soberly,  but  with  no  sympathy ; 
he  did  not  understand  why  a  tall,  grown  fellow  like 
Ned  should  think  on  home  with  such  longing.  He 
did  not  care  himself;  he  had  come  to  New  Plymouth 
to  live,  and  he  looked  forward  to  the  departure  of 
the  Mayflower  as  a  novel  happening  in  the  round  of 
everyday  occurrences. 

Yet  when  it  befell,  it  seemed  quite  a  matter-of- 
fact  event.  A  clear  breezy  morning  it  was,  and,  as 
the  household  sat  at  their  early  breakfast,  Francis 
Cooke  came  leisurely  to  tell  Master  Hopkins  that 
the  wind  was  setting  steady  from  the  west,  and 
Master  Jones  had  rowed  ashore  to  bid  his  former 


150  Soldier  Rigdale 

passengers  good-by ;  so  soon  as  the  tide  was  at 
flood,  the  ship  would  put  forth. 

There  was  wood  and  water  to  fetch  as  every  day ; 
and  Miles  did  the  tasks  hastily.  As  he  came  down 
the  path  by  Cooke's  house,  he  could  feel  the  wind 
stirring  his  hair,  and  yonder  in  the  harbor  the  waves 
were  ruffling,  and  the  dim  old  sails  of  the  Mayflower^ 
unfurled,  bellied  in  the  gusts. 

When  he  had  set  the  dripping  bucket  within  the 
living  room,  he  ran  down  toward  the  bluff,  to  see 
what  more  was  to  see,  but,  finding  his  playmates 
lingering  by  the  door  of  the  Common  House,  he 
joined  them.  Within  the  house,  they  told  him, 
Master  Jones  was  drinking  a  friendly  draught  with 
the  colonists,  and  taking  his  leave.  Presently,  in- 
deed, the  Master,  a  low,  broad-shouldered  figure, 
in  his  wide  breeches  and  loose  jacket,  came  forth, 
attended  by  most  of  the  men  of  the  colony,  and 
rolled  off  to  the  landing  place. 

Some  of  the  boys  straggled  respectfully  behind 
their  elders,  but  Miles  raced  with  those  who  ran 
to  be  first  at  the  landing.  There,  alongside  the 
rock,  rode  the  ship's  longboat,  and  Will  Trevor  and 
several  of  the  lesser  men  stood  talking  with  the 
sailors  who  sat  in  her.  The  youngsters,  too,  would 
gladly  have  borne  a  part,  but  the  Master,  coming 
right  on  their  heels  across  the  sand,  broke  up  the 
little  group ;  he  was  speaking  boisterously  with  the 


When  the  Good  Ship  Sailed  151 

Governor,  so  his  loud  voice  could  be  heard  even 
above  the  confusion  of  the  embarkation. 

Indeed,  it  was  all  so  noisy  and  hurried  that  noth- 
ing of  those  last  moments  remained  clear  in-  Miles's 
mind ;  he  remembered  only  that  men  spoke  of  let- 
ters and  packets,  and  the  Master  wished  them  many 
a  "God  be  wi'  you,'.'  and  there  was  a  bustling  to  and 
fro  and  a  deal  of  hand-shaking.  Then  the  Master, 
sitting  in  the  stern  seat,  was  cursing  at  his  sailors  ; 
the.  width  of  blue  water  between  the  longboat  and 
the  landing  rock  was  increasing ;  and  for  a  moment 
Miles  watched  mechanically  the  sway  and  swing  of 
the  seamen's  bodies,  as,  bending  to  their  oars,  they 
rowed  the  boat  away. 

When  at  length  he  turned  slowly  about,  he  was 
aware  that,  halfway  up  the  rugged  slope  of  the 
bluff,  a  little  group  of  women,  all  that  survived  in 
the  colony,  were  standing,  and  the  children  with 
them.  He  scrambled  up  to  be  with  Dolly,  why, 
he  could  not  say,  only  somehow  he  wanted  to  be 
sure  she  was  safe  and  near  him  then  ;  and  he  noted 
Mistress  Carver,  who  sat  upon  a  stone  with  her 
hands  clasped  tensely  in  her  lap,  and  Priscilla  Mul- 
lins,  whose  hair  blew  unheeded  about  her  face, 
while  she  gazed  out  to  sea. 

He  almost  stumbled  over  Wrestling  Brewster 
and  the  little  Samson  boy,  who  had  sat  down  on  the 
turf  and    unconcernedly   were    playing  with    some 


152  Soldier  Rigdale 

bright  pebbles ;  but  he  did  not  pause  to  speak  to 
Wrestling,  just  clambered  a  few  feet  higher  up  the 
bluff,  where  Dolly,  holding  to  Mistress  Brewster's 
gown,  stood  with  her  wistful  face  turned  seaward. 
"  Look  you  closely,  Dolly,"  he  greeted  her.  "  See, 
they're   hoisting   sail   on  board  the  Mayflower!' 

Dolly,  pressing  up  to  him, ,  whispered  for  her 
only  reply :  "  Do  you  mind,  Miles,  how  we  came 
in  on  the  ship,  and  mammy  and  daddy  with  us?  I 
wish  we'd  all  stayed  in  England." 

"  Now  hush,  Dolly,"  Miles  admonished  in  a 
gruff  tone,  and  scowled  vexedly  as  the  little  sister, 
hiding  her  face  against  his  doublet,  began  to  cry. 
Then,  half  pitying,  he  bent  to  speak  to  her,  when 
a  sudden  gasp,  as  if  the  women  about  him  all  drew 
in  their  breath,  made  him  look  to  the  harbor. 
There  he  saw  the  Mayflower^  with  the  western  wind 
swelling  her  dingy  sails,  had  heaved  up  anchor,  and 
was  heading  out  upon  the  ocean. 

The  sun  was  bright  and  made  the  dirty  sails 
gleam  like  silver ;  the  water  was  blue,  and  the  wind 
was  brisk ;  and  the  ship  stood  seaward  swiftly,  very 
swiftly.  Miles  thought  on  how  she  had  set  forth 
from  Southampton;  and  he  knew  that  on  board 
men  would  be  clattering  across  her  deck,  and  haul- 
ing at  ropes,  and  the  Master  would  be  bellowing 
orders. 

But  on  shore  a  great  silence  had  fallen.     The 


When  the  Good  Ship  Sailed  153 

most  careless  of  the  men  had  no  word  to  say,  while 
of  the  graver  sort  some  had  bowed  their  heads,  and 
some,  coming  higher  up  the  bluff,  had  drawn  close 
to  their  wives  and  children.  For  a  moment  there 
was  no  sound  save  the  lap  of  waves  about  the  great 
gray  landing  rock,  and  the  swish  of  shingle  as  the 
swell  receded  ;  then  suddenly  one  of  the  women  — 
it  was  Mistress  White,  six  weeks  a  widow,  who 
stood  with  her  baby  in  her  arms  and  her  other  little 
child  holding  to  her  skirts  —  burst  out  sobbing. 

Miles  gazed  about  him  in  wonder.  Why,  men 
never  cried ;  Captain  Standish's  face  now  was  hard 
as  a  stone  ;  and  he  himself  had  not  the  least  inclina- 
tion to  shed  a  tear.  But  among  the  women  round 
him  was  a  stifled  weeping,  so  anguishing  for  being 
half  suppressed,  that  some  pity  mingled  with  his 
contempt,  and,  with  a  feeling  that  he  was  ashamed 
to  listen,  he  slipped  away  from  the  bluff.  He 
thought  he  were  best  run  up  on  the  great  hill  to 
watch  the  Mayflower  depart ;  and  he  found  that  his 
friend  Jack  and  several  other  boys  had  had  the  same 
thought. 

All  together  they  raced  up  the  street  to  see  who 
should  gain  the  hilltop  first,  and  by  the  time  they 
came  thither,  with  laughing  and  struggling,  had 
clean  forgot  their  elders,  who,  from  the  bluff  below, 
watched  the  receding  ship  through  a  dazzle  of  tears. 
From  the  top  of  the  hill  the  lads   could  see  the 


154  Soldier  Rigdale 

white  sail  of  the  Mayflower  in  the  offing,  out  beyond 
Sagaquab,  speeding  ever  farther  into  the  horizon ; 
but  Miles  never  saw  it  vanish,  for  Francis  Billing- 
ton  had  discovered  a  nest  of  snakes  at  the  other 
side  of  the  hill ;  so,  in  the  midst  of  their  watching, 
the  boys  must  run  thither  and  look  upon  the  wrig- 
gling little  creatures,  then  scrupulously  stone  them 
all  to  death. 

When  Miles  clambered  again  to  the  hilltop,  there 
was  never  a  distant  glimmer  of  a  sail  upon  the  sea ; 
but  he  could  not  think  of  the  ship's  departure  sadly, 
with  the  day  so  fair  and  his  time  at  his  disposal. 
He  felt  hungry,  though,  so  he  ran  down  to  the 
house  a  moment  to  eat  his  dinner ;  and,  for  all  it 
was  long  past  the  noon  hour,  he  found  no  dinner 
ready. 

Ned  was  out  by  the  woodpile,  nailing  together 
a  hand-barrow,  with  a  sudden  fierce  spurt  of  energy, 
but  he  was  in  a  sulky  temper;  and  within  the  house 
Constance  went  about  with  her  eyes  red.  She  gave 
Miles  a  piece  of  bread  in  his  hand,  and  bade  him 
run  away  and  eat  it ;  stepmother  had  shut  herself 
in  her  chamber,  and  father  was  with  her,  trying  to 
comfort  her.  "  I  see  not  why  you  all  make  such  a 
to-do  because  the  old  ship  has  sailed,"  Miles  spoke, 
with  his  mouth  full. 

"  Because  we're  left  alone.  Because  no  ship  will 
come  ere  the  autumn.     Maybe  it  will  never  come," 


When  the  Good  Ship  Sailed  155 

Constance  burst  out,  with  sudden  passionateness. 
r  And  we  are  here,  and  home  is  there,  and  the  ship 
has  gone.     You'd  understand,  if  you  were  older." 

No,  Miles  did  not  understand  yet.  What  with 
the  excitement  and  the  change,  in  spite  of  the  sad 
bearing  of  those  about  him,  the  meaning  of  it  all 
did  not  come  home  to  him  till  next  morning.  He 
had  risen  early  with  the  others  and  run  forth  to 
fetch  wood  for  the  morning  fire.  The  sun  was  just 
reddening  the  horizon  line,  but  the  rest  of  the  world 
looked  faint  and  gray.  A  white  mist,  rolling  off 
the  fields,  was  shrinking  away  inland  from  the  sea 
whence  it  had  come.  But  out  to  sea  he  could  dis- 
tinguish clearly  the  dusky  beach  point,  and  the 
islands  and  —  There  he  rubbed  his  eyes.  No, 
it  was  no  trick  of  the  mist.  There  was  the  old 
anchoring  ground,  but  it  was  empty ;  the  clumsy, 
old,  dark  hulk  was  gone. 

Miles  walked  on  to  the  woodpile,  trying  hard 
to  whistle,  but  the  only  strain  that  came  was  a  sorry 
snatch  in  a  minor  key,  —  the  Hanging-tune.  The 
chill  of  the  dawning  struck  into  his  bones.  Once 
more  he  looked  to  the  anchoring  ground  that  was 
vacant ;  then  he  sat  down  suddenly  among  the 
damp  logs.  He  did  not  cry,  —  he  was  too  big  and 
old  for  that,  —  but  he  leaned  his  folded  arms  against 
a  log,  and  hid  his  face  between  them. 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE    SOWING    OF    THE    FIELDS 

TO  be  sure,  though,  I  was  not  weeping," 
Miles  declared  to  Constance,  who  came 
out  from  the  house  to  see  why  he  tarried 
so  long  at  the  woodpile,  "  for  I  never  even  thought 
on  going  back  to  England." 

He  little  guessed  that,  at  one  time,  the  leaders  of 
the  colony  had  spoken  seriously  of  returning  Dolly 
and  himself  to  the  home-country.  But  Master 
Hopkins  had  urged  that,  in  such  case,  the  children 
might  be  drawn  back  into  the  faith  of  the  Church 
of  England,  from  which  their  father  had  sought  to 
snatch  them ;  and  Elder  Brewster  had  added  that 
it  was  a  weary  journey  for  such  little  folk,  and  no 
prospect  at  the  end  save  of  hard  fare  among  grudg- 
ing kindred. 

John  Rigdale  left  no  near  relatives  ;  and  his  dis- 
tant cousins,  to  whom  the  children  would  have  to  go, 
were  poor  tenant-farmers,  just  as  he  had  been,  who 
would  find  it  burdensome  to  feed  two  more  mouths. 
For  Miles  and  Dolly,  not  only  would  childhood 
prove  hard  and  laborious,  but  there  would  be  nothing 

156 


The  Sowing  of  the  Fields  157 

better  to  look  forward  to ;  as  the  boy  grew  to  man- 
hood, he  could  hope  only  to  toil  for  daily  hire  on 
some  farmer's  land.  "  Unless  he  fling  away  his 
soul's  welfare  by  going  as  a  mercenary  in  some  in- 
iquitous foreign  war,"  said  Master  Isaac  Allerton  ; 
whereat  Captain  Standish  smiled  a  little  behind  his 
beard,  but  made  no  answer. 

But  here  in  New  Plymouth,  though  Miles  would 
have  plenty  of  work  to  do,  he  would  have,  as  his 
inheritance  from  his  father,  a  claim  to  a  share  of 
land  and  of  whatever  cattle  or  other  property  the 
settlers  should  hereafter  hold  in  common.  By  the 
time  he  was  a  man,  there  would  be  enough  for  him 
to  have  a  small  farm  of  his  own,  where  he  could  live 
in  more  comfort  than  he  would  have  known  in 
England ;  and,  till  he  was  grown,  Master  Hopkins 
was  willing  to  feed  and  shelter  him,  in  return  for 
what  labor  he  could  do. 

As  for  Dolly,  her  case  was  simple  enough,  for  if 
Miles  stayed,  she  stayed ;  and  Mistress  Brewster 
was  quite  determined  that  the  little  girl  should  stay 
in  no  house  but  hers.  So  the  Mayflower  sailed 
away,  and  Miles  Rigdale,  with  his  little  household, 
remained  behind ;  and  he  never  dreamed  that  peo- 
nle  had  thought  of  continuing  the  colony  without 
nis  aid. 

The  boy  had  some  cause  to  rate  his  services 
highly,  for,  in  the  weakened  condition  of  the  settle- 


158  Soldier  Rigdale 

ment,  every  atom  of  strength  had  to  be  used,  and 
tasks  were  set  for  him  as  seriously  as  for  burly 
Edward  Dotey.  The  full  working- force  of  New 
Plymouth  mustered  but  twenty-two  men,  —  count- 
ing in  the  venerable  Elder,  the  Governor,  and  the 
Doctor,  who  all  labored  with  their  hands  as  readily 
as  the  rest,  —  and  nine  boys  —  some  half-grown 
fellows,  like  Giles  and  Bart  Allerton,  who,  at  a 
pinch,  could  bear  a  musket  and  do  almost  a  man's 
work,  and  some  small  rascals,  like  Miles  himself, 
who,  with  the  best  intentions,  did  not  always,  for 
lack  of  strength  or  of  wisdom,  accomplish  what  was 
bidden  them. 

But,  old  or  young,  laggard  or  brisk,  every  male 
member  of  the  colony  was  expected  to  turn  out  now 
and  bear  a  hand,  for  the  mid-April  season  ap- 
proached, and  the  precious  corn,  that  was  to  feed 
the  settlement,  must  be  planted.  To  the  elders,  it- 
looked  like  a  stretch  of  hard  work,  but  Miles  hailed 
it  joyously,  as  a  dignified,  manly  labor. 

It  began  excitingly,  with  the  coming  of  the  ale- 
wives  up  the  river,  just  as  Squanto  had  foretold  ; 
and  straightway  some  of  the  men  set  to  taking  them 
with  seines,  while  others  with  hoes  scored  up  the 
rough  soil  of  the  cleared  fields  to  the  north,  that 
once  had  been  the  planting  land  of  the  Indians  of 
Patuxet.  Still  others  got  out  the  corn,  a  precious 
supply  of  seed  which  they  had  found  buried  in  an 


The  Sowing  of  the  Fields  159 

Indian  basket  under  the  sand  of  Cape  Cod,  and 
had  made  bold  to  take  against  this  sowing  time. 

For  the  present,  Miles's  part  was  only  to  splash 
about  at  the  river  brink,  where  he  fancied  he  was 
hauling  at  the  seines,  or  to  carry  a  bucket  of  water 
to  the  workers  in  the  field,  or  bring  a  stouter  hoe 
from  the  storehouse.  Planting  was  no  labor,  just 
sport,  he  went  to  assure  Dolly,  at  the  end  of  the 
first  twelve  hours. 

He  tried  to  see  his  little  sister  once  each  day,  but 
this  time  the  work  had  been  kept  up  so  late  that 
it  was  past  twilight  before  he  could  run  across  the 
street  to  Elder  Brewster's  cottage.  A  lingering 
warmth  was  in  the  evening  air,  so  Dolly  and  tall 
Priscilla  Mullins,  their  faces  dim  in  the  candlelight 
that  shone  from  within  the  living  room  behind 
them,  were  sitting  on  the  doorstone.  Some  one 
else  stood  leaning  against  the  doorpost,  some  one 
with  a  deep  voice,  who  called  Miles  by  name. 

"  Is  it  you,  John  Alden  ?  "  the  boy  asked,  and, 
because  Alden  was  the  Captain's  friend,  would  have 
talked  to  him,  had  not  Dolly,  saying  she  had  a  great 
secret  to  tell  him,  dragged  him  away,  round  the 
corner  of  the  cottage. 

"  Now  guess  what  'tis,  Miles,"  she  bade,  as  they 
halted  in  the  ray  of  light  that  streamed  from  the 
house-window  beside  them. 

"  I  cannot  guess,  Dolly.     Be  not  so  childish." 


160  Soldier  Rigdale 

"  I'd  give  you  three  guesses.  'Tis  something 
Love  and  I  found  in  the  woods,  up  beyond  the 
spring,  on  a  southern  hillside.  'Twas  so  far  I  was 
near  afraid,  but  I  am  glad  I  went.  We  were  play- 
ing in  the  dead  leaves,  and  we  found  these.  Look 
on  them." 

She  drew  her  hand  from  her  small  bodice,  with 
three  wilted  pink  flowers  clenched  tightly  in  it. 
They  were  small  flowers,  of  a  star-shaped  form  and 
a  rare,  deep  pink  color,  but  Miles  scarcely  heeded 
color  or  size  in  his  enjoyment  of  their  sweet,  spicy 
smell.  They  were  unlike  any  blossom  he  had  ever 
seen,  so  he  was  not  ashamed  to  show  his  interest, 
even  if  a  flower  was  a  girlish  trifle.  "  You  and 
Love  found  them,  Dolly  ?  And  no  one  else 
knows  ?  " 

"  'Tis  a  secret,"  Dolly  nodded.  "  We  told  only 
Wrestling  and  Priscilla  and  Mistress  Brewster. 
Ay,  and  the  Elder  too,  because  Mistress  Brewster 
said  perchance  he  might  know  what  flower  it  was, 
he  is  so  wise.  And  John  Alden,  Priscilla  told  him. 
And  Love  told  Harry  Samson  and  Milly  Cooper — " 

"  It's  a  mighty  great  secret  when  all  the  colony 
knows  it,"  Miles  said  sarcastically,  and  then,  at 
Dolly's  hurt  look,  was  sorry;  so  he  added,  "  but  I'm 
glad  to  know 't,  Dolly,  and  I'll  go  seek  for  some 
myself." 

"  There  are  buds  yonder  on  the  hillside,  but  no 


The  Sowing  of  the  Fields  161 

blossoms.  Maybe,  though,  we  could  find  some, 
if  we  went  and  searched.  Priscilla  wishes  to  get 
some  too.  Oh,  Miles,  could  we  not  all  three  go 
to-morrow  ? " 

"  I  must  work,"  Miles  answered  proudly.  "  I'm 
not  a  child  or  a  girl,  so  I  cannot  stop  to  play." 

Yet  he  was  child  enough  to  think  he  should  like 
to  go  get  a  handful  of  those  rare,  pretty  flowers. 
After  he  got  them,  he  would  not  greatly  care  for 
them,  but  there  would  be  the  zest  of  owning  some- 
thing that  every  boy  in  the  colony  did  not  own  ;  and 
if  he  gave  the  flowers  to  Dolly  or  to  Constance,  it 
would  please  them,  since  they  were  girls.  So,  he- 
fore  dawn  next  morning,  Miles  tumbled  out  of  bed, 
and,  taking  in  his  hand  the  hunch  of  bread  that 
formed  his  breakfast,  ran  away  up  beyond  the 
spring.  Perhaps  before  work-time  he  could  find  a 
blossom  or  two,  he  thought ;  and  so  grubbed  hope- 
fully among  the  damp,  dead  leaves  of  the  hillslope. 

The  mist  that  precedes  the  sunrise  melted  from 
the  air;  a  bird  sang  faintly  in  the  distance;  and 
even  amidst  the  undergrowth  the  light  grew  yellow 
and  cheerful ;  work-time  was  near,  and  Miles  had 
found  only  a  poor  half-dozen  blossoms.  He  hated 
to  give  over,  but  there  was  no  help  for  it ;  so,  get- 
ting slowly  to  his  feet,  he  was  starting  down  the  path 
to  the  settlement,  when  a  man  crashed  out  through 
the  bushes  on  his  left.     It  was  John  Alden,  Miles 


1 62  Soldier  Rigdale 

saw  at  once,  and  he  carried  a  great  handful  of  the 
pink  flowers. 

That  was  palpably  an  unfair  arrangement,  Miles 
held,  so,  as  he  fell  into  step  at  Alden's  side,  he 
queried :  "  You  did  not  come  hither  and  strip  our 
place,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Whose  place,  lad  ?  " 

"Why,  mine  and  Dolly's  and  Priscilla  s  and  — '] 

"  Do  you  think  I  should  dare  plunder  the  hold- 
ing of  so  many  proprietors  ?  I  have  been  to  north- 
ward." 

Miles  was  silenced  a  moment,  then  insinuated, 
"  John  Alden,  what  do  you  want  of  posies  ?  You're 
a  man." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  of  them,  Miles  ?  "  John 
smiled  down  at  him. 

"  I'm  going  to  give  mine  away  ;  I'm  taking  them 
to  the  Elder's  cottage  —  " 

"  Give  them  away  there,  eh  ?  To  Mistress  Mul- 
lins,  now,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  No,  to  be  sure,"  Miles  said  indignantly.  "  I 
do  not  like  Priscilla  Mullins." 

"  Then  you  are  the  only  one  of  that  mind  in 
New  Plymouth.     Why  do  you  not  like  her  ?  " 

Miles  went  in  silence  a  time,  kicking  at  each 
hump  and  hummock  in  his  path,  but  Alden  was 
waiting  for  his  answer,  and  he  wished  to  please  him. 
"  Well,  if  you  must  know,  John  Alden,"  he  broke 


The  Sowing  of  the   Fields  163 

out  at  last,  "  I  do  not  like  Priscilla  Mullins  because 
she  kissed  me." 

Alden  began  to  laugh,  then,  suddenly  picking 
Miles  up  by  the  back  of  his  doublet,  shook  him  a 
little.  "  Miles  Rigdale,"  he  said  solemnly,  as  he 
set  the  boy,  rather  breathless,  on  his  feet  again, 
"  you  are  an  ungrateful  little  cub." 

Miles  held  that  a  most  uncalled-for  charge,  but 
he  had  no  time  to  defend  himself,  for  just  then 
they  came  over  the  brow  of  the  hill  by  Cooke's 
cottage  and  saw  men  astir  in  the  street,  so  the  day's 
labor  must  be  beginning.  Miles  ran  to  join  Francis 
and  Jack,  and,  in  bragging  to  his  comrades  of  his 
flowers,  forgot  to  take  them  to  Dolly.  That  night, 
when  he  stopped  to  have  a  word  with  her,  he  told 
her  all  about  them,  but  he  found  that  she  was  not 

,  interested  in  a  story  of  six  blossoms,  seeing  that 
Priscilla  Mullins,  since  the  morning,  had  had  a  fair 

I  large  bunch  of  them,  such  as  no  one  else  in  the 
settlement  could  show. 

But  in  the  days  that  followed  Miles  had  little 
time  to  go  seeking  flowers  on  the  hillslopes,  or 
gossiping  with  his  sister  in  the  twilight.  For,  with 
never  a  minute  of  daylight  to  rest,  the  whole  colony 
worked  now  in  good  earnest,  —  taking  alewives  in 

j  the  brook,  tugging  them  up  into  the  fields,  setting 
the  little  hills  with  corn  seed  and  with  fish  to  keep 
it  moist.    To  crown  all,  the  planting  fell  in  a  season 


164  Soldier  Rigdale 

of  heat,  and  an  intense  heat,  unlike  the  milder 
warmth  of  England,  that  sapped  the  heart  of  the 
stoutest  worker. 

The  first  day  Miles  was  bidden  to  plant  corn, 
putting  two  shiny  alewives  into  each  hole,  and  Jack 
Cooke  was  set  to  plant  the  row  next  him.  But 
unhappily  they  chattered  so  much  that  Miles  pres- 
ently realized,  in  some  horror,  that  he  had  supplied 
several  hills  with  alewives,  but  no  corn,  and,  while 
he  was  pulling  up  the  ground  to  set  the  matter 
right,  came  Master  Hopkins.  He  was  angry ;  not 
that  he  blustered,  but  he  cuffed  Miles  smartly,  and, 
saying  he  could  not  be  trusted  at  such  important 
work,  sent  him  down  to  the  shore  to  labor  hereafter. 

From  that  time  on,  Miles  tugged  fish,  —  a  dreary 
task,  in  which  he  was  coupled  with  Francis  Billing- 
ton,  another  scatter-head.  They  had  a  great  flat 
Indian  basket,  in  which  they  heaped  the  alewives, 
taken  all  slippery  from  the  big  pile  that  lay  upon 
the  river  brink ;  then  they  would  lift  the  basket 
between  them,  to  each  a  handle,  and,  panting  and 
heaving,  struggle  up  the  steep  bank  from  the  river, 
and  so  through  the  settlement,  out  to  the  hot,  open 
fields. 

It  was  not  a  great  load  they  could  carry  at  one 
time,  so  their  usefulness  depended  on  the  number  of 
trips  they  made,  but  there  they  were  sluggish.  Often 
the  basket  upset,  and  they  had  to  sit  down  to  refill 


The  Sowing  of  the  Fields  165 

it ;  and  again,  more  and  more  frequently  as  the  hot 
days  went  on,  they  must  halt  to  quarrel,  when 
Francis  vowed  Miles  was  bearing  down  on  his  end 
of  the  basket,  and  Miles  declared  Francis  was  not 
doing  his  share. 

One  morning  it  came  to  such  a  pass  that  Miles 
took  a  basket  by  himself,  but  he  found  the  journey 
single-handed  so  hard  that  he  was  in  even  less  hurry 
than  usual  to  return  from  the  fields  and  get  a 
second  load.  Loitering  along,  he  was  amusing 
himself  by  trying  to  carry  on  his  head  the  empty 
fish-basket,  which  would  fall  off,  when,  as  he  paused 
to  pick  up  the  troublesome  article  for  the  fifth  time, 
Captain  Standish,  coming  shirt-sleeved  and  grimy 
from  the  fields,  overtook  him.  Rather  guiltily, 
Miles  straightened  up  very  erect,  and  said,  "  Good 
morrow,  sir,"  as  he  always  said  it  to  the  Captain. 

"  You're  journeying  back  to  the  brook,  Miles  ?  " 
asked  Standish.  "At  this  speed  you'll  not  come 
thither  ere  dinner-time." 

"  I'm  hastening  now,  sir,"  Miles  answered,  ac- 
cepting the  words  as  an  invitation  to  trot  along  at 
the  other's  side. 

The  Captain  had  his  own  concerns  to  look  to, 
plainly,  by  the  way  he  tramped  along,  but,  right 
in  the  midst,  he  glanced  down  at  his  small  com- 
panion and  asked  unexpectedly  :  "  Where  are  your 
shoes,  Miles  ?  " 


1 66  Soldier  Rigdale 

"I  —  I  could  not  wear  them,"  the  boy  explained, 
kicking  his  bare  feet  in  the  sand.  "  Down  by  the 
river  'tis  very  wet.  And  then  'tis  hot,  so  I  laid  off 
my  doublet  and  my  shoes  and  stockings  too.  I 
like  to  go  barefoot,"  he  added  defensively.  "  In 
England,  they  never  suffered  me ;  they  said  only 
beggar  children  went  barefoot.  But  —  "  his  voice 
grew  suddenly  anxious,  "  I  am  sure  my  mother 
would  think  it  right  now,  do  not  you,  sir  ?  " 

The  Captain  did  not  look  convinced. 

"  It  is  a  great  saving  to  my  shoes,"  murmured 
Miles. 

"  You  were  better  save  your  feet,"  the  Captain 
answered.  "  When  your  shoes  wear  out,  there'll 
be  new  ones  for  you.  Now  do  you  go  to  the  house 
and  put  them  on,  before  you  step  on  a  thorn  or  do 
yourself  some  hurt."  His  tone  was  brusque,  and 
he  hurried  at  once  about  his  business,  as  if  he  had 
no  time  to  waste. 

Obediently  Miles  went  to  the  house  to  finish 
dressing ;  he  was  a  little  sorry,  because  he  liked  the 
fun  of  going  barefoot  in  the  soft  dirt,  yet,  on  the 
whole,  it  was  pleasant  to  have  Captain  Standish  I 
speak  to  you  and  order  you  into  your  shoes,  as  if  he 
had  some  concern  for  you.  So  flattered  did  he  feel, 
indeed,  that  he  only  smiled  in  a  superior  way  when 
Francis  Billington,  barelegged  and  unregenerate, 
sneered  at  him  for  putting  on  his  shoes  and  stockings. 


The  Sowing  of  the  Fields  167 

But  that  was  the  last  happening  of  the  week 
which  Miles  remembered  with  enjoyment,  for  the 
first  excitement  had  now  gone  out  of  the  labor, 
yet  the  work  dragged  heavily  on.  All  through  the 
weary  day  he  felt  the  weight  of  the  basket  pulling  at 
his  arm  and  the  heat  of  the  steady  sun  scorching 
upon  his  bare  head;  and  at  night,  when  he  lay  on 
his  pallet,  with  his  feet  throbbing  and  his  back  ach- 
ing, he  dreamed  of  tugging  fish  up  the  breathless 
pitch  of  a  never-ending  bluff. 

A  little  respite  came  on  the  Sabbath,  when,  of 
course,  no  work  could  be  done,  but  with  Monday's 
light  all  were  in  the  fields  once  more.  It  was  a  day 
of  sweltering  heat ;  the  rays  of  the  sun  seemed  beaten 
upward  again  by  the  steaming  earth,  and  the  languid 
air  was  heavy  and  sick.  Toward  the  fiercest  hour, 
about  noon,  as  Miles  was  panting  through  the  fields 
on  a  return  trip  to  the  brook,  Master  Carver  called 
to  him. 

The  Governor  had  knelt  to  set  the  corn  at  the 
head  of  one  of  the  rows ;  his  doublet  was  off  and  his 
hands  were  grimy,  but,  for  all  the  heat,  Miles  saw 
that  his  high,  bald  forehead  was  quite  dry  of  per- 
spiration. "  Here,  lad,"  he  said,  as  Miles  ran  to 
him,  "  can  you  fetch  us  a  pail  of  water  hither  to 
drink  ?  " 

"Ay,  Governor,"  Miles  piped  in  a  respectful 
treble,  and,  much  impressed  by  the  importance  of 


1 68  Soldier  Rigdale 

his  errand,  trotted  off  briskly.  At  the  spring  he 
longed  to  dally  a  moment,  to  drink  of  the  water  and 
to  stir  up  the  great  green  frog  who  lived  in  the  cool 
sand  of  the  bottom,  but,  so  soon  as  his  bucket  was 
filled,  he  resolutely  turned  back  through  the  glaring 
heat  to  the  fields. 

Short  as  the  time  had  been,  a  change  had  taken 
place.  At  first  he  thought  it  a  mere  trick  of  the 
dazzling  light,  but,  as  he  looked  again,  he  saw 
that  indeed  most  of  the  men  had  risen  from  labor 
and,  drawn  together,  were  gazing  in  his  direction. 
Nearer  at  hand,  he  beheld  two  coming  toward  the 
settlement ;  the  one  was  John  Howland,  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Governor's  household,  and  the  other,  who 
leaned  heavily  upon  his  arm,  was  the  Governor  him- 
self. They  passed  within  arm's  length  of  the  boy, 
and  Miles  took  note  how  the  Governor's  down-bent 
face  was  now  of  a  dull  reddish  hue,  and  he  noted, 
also,  how  the  grime  of  his  homely  toil  still  clung  to 
his  limp  hands. 

Surprised  and  a  little  awed,  though  he  scarcely 
could  tell  why,  Miles  tugged  on  into  the  fields,  and, 
finding  Goodman  Cooke  among  those  who  stood 
gazing  after  the  Governor,  asked  him  eagerly  what 
was  wrong.  "  Why,  naught,"  spoke  Cooke,  "  only 
Master  Carver  complains  of  his  head ;  'tis  along  o' 
the  heat,  so  the  Doctor  ordered  him  back  to  his 
house  to  rest.     He'll  be  well  again  by  eventide." 


The  Sowing  of  the  Fields  169 

But  with  eventide  the  word  went  among  the  colo- 
nists that  Governor  Carver  lay  unconscious,  and 
at  those  tidings  faces  grew  grave.  Miles,  in  his 
youthfulness,  gave  little  thought  to  it  all ;  he  was 
more  concerned  with  his  own  half-flayed  hands 
and  aching  legs  than  with  Master  Carver's  ill- 
ness, and  each  day  these  physical  pangs  grew 
keener. 

The  height  of  misery  came  on  a  sultry  afternoon 
toward  the  close  of  the  week,  a  breathless,  stifling 
time,  when,  for  sheer  weariness  and  hopelessness, 
Miles  sat  down  in  the  hot  dirt  in  the  middle  of  the 
field  and  thought  he  never  could  rise  again.  Yet 
he  scrambled  up  briskly,  when  he  saw  his  guardian 
approach,  though  Master  Hopkins,  whose  face  was 
very  grave,  did  not  scold  the  boy,  but,  after  a  first 
sharp  look,  bade  him  go  rest  in  the  shade  till  the  day 
was  out.  "The  hot  sun  is  deadly,"  he  said,  as  to 
himself;  but  Miles  realized  only  that  he  was  bidden 
to  cease  from  labor. 

He  dragged  himself  back  to  the  house,  where  he 
lay  down  upon  his  bed,  and  watched  the  little  patch 
of  sunlight  clamber  higher  up  the  wall  and  harked 
to  the  drowsy  sounds  of  out-of-doors ;  then  heard 
nothing  clearly  till  the  men  tramped  in  to  supper. 
He  sat  up  slowly,  and  listened  to  catch  what  gossip 
they  might  bring ;  their  voices  were  subdued,  and 
he  half  guessed  what   had   befallen    ere   he   heard 


170  Soldier  Rigdale 

Master  Hopkins  say  solemnly  that  the  good  Gov- 
ernor Carver  was  dead. 

Miles  thought  on  it  the  night  long ;  this  death, 
lonely  by  itself,  was  so  much  more  awesome  than  the 
crowded  sicknesses  of  the  last  winter.  It  seemed 
the  order  of  life  must  show  some  change,  but,  with 
the  heat  of  the  next  rising  day,  the  colonists,  as 
usual,  only  more  silent,  filed  forth  to  their  labor 
in  the  fields.  For  whether  men  were  well  or  ill, 
or  lived  or  died,  the  corn  that  was  the  hope  of  the 
settlement  must  be  planted. 


CHAPTER   XIII 


THE    TWO    EDWARDS 


THE  fields  of  New  Plymouth  at  last  were 
sown,  —  twenty  acres  of  Indian  corn  and 
six  of  English  seed,  wheat,  barley,  and 
pease,  —  enough  to  yield  an  ample  harvest.  There 
was  besides  another  field,  where  the  corn,  however 
tall  it  grew,  would  never  be  reaped,  for,  that  the 
savages  might  not  know  the  number  of  the  dead, 
it  was  planted  upon  the  graves  of  those  who 
perished  in  the  winter's  sickness. 

Among  them  lay  John  Carver,  buried  honorably 
with  such  poor  military  pomp  as  the  colony  could 
show  its  governor,  and  with  a  more  precious  tribute 
of  grief  for  a  good  man  lost.  Near  him  lay  now 
his  wife  Katharine,  who  at  his  death  had  grieved 
and  pined,  till  within  six  weeks  they  had  dug  for 
her  a  grave  in  the  new-sown  corn-land. 

Master  Bradford  was  the  new  governor ;  a  grave, 
wise-headed  gentleman,  with  a  gift  of  kindly  speech 
and  a  shrewd  sense  of  humor,  but,  to  Miles,  his 
greatest  claim  to  respect  was  that  the  interpreter 
Squanto  had  chosen  to  dwell  with  him.     For  Miles 

171 


172  Soldier  Rigdale 

Rigdale,  to  use  Mistress  Hopkins's  vexed  phrase, 
was  "  ever  beating  the  street  after  the  heathen  sav- 
age." It  must  be  owned  that  to  his  guardians  he 
was  a  troublesome  boy  ;  not  a  bad  boy,  but  a  careless 
fellow,  who,  though  he  might  mean  to  do  well,  was 
likely,  when  sent  to  weed  in  the  fields,  to  be  found 
swimming  in  the  river,  or  hunting  strawberries  on 
the  hills,  or  fishing  with  Squanto. 

Miles  did  not  reason  out  his  new  dislike  for  re- 
sponsible labor,  did  not  take  into  account  the  influ- 
ence of  lazy  Edward  Lister,  or  the  distractions  of 
the  spring  and  early  summer  in  this  new  country ; 
but  he  did  feel  there  was  a  difference  between  work- 
ing with  his  father,  when  he  knew  the  harvest  would 
be  for  his  mother  and  Dolly,  and  grubbing  in  a  cor- 
ner of  a  great  field  that  was  the  property  of  no  man, 
but  should  feed  the  whole  colony.  He  no  longer 
took  pride  in  his  labor,  and,  if  he  had  taken  any, 
Mistress  Hopkins's  dissatisfied  comments  would 
have  destroyed  it.  Yet,  much  though  he  disliked 
the  bustling  woman  with  the  sharp  tongue,  he  neither 
disliked  nor  feared  her  the  half  as  much  as  he 
disliked  and  feared  her  husband. 

Years  later,  when  he  had  come  to  manhood, 
Miles  was  able  to  think  on  Master  Hopkins  witht 
gratitude,  for,  in  all  honesty,  this  severe,  undemon- 
strative man  used  him  like  a  son,  as  kindly  as  he' 
used  his  own  boy,  Giles.     Except  in  the  stress  of 


The  Two  Edwards  173 

planting-time,  Miles  was  never  set  to  tasks  beyond 
his  strength  ;  he  was  well  fed,  —  as  the  fare  of  the 
colony  went,  —  well  sheltered,  decently  clad,  while 
the  little  store  of  his  father's  goods  was  scrupulously 
left  untouched  for  his  later  use. 

Master  Hopkins  tried  also,  conscientiously,  to 
keep  him  to  the  path  of  strict  virtue,  with  admoni- 
tions, and,  if  need  were,  with  corrections.  It  was 
an  age  of  whippings,  and,  on  occasion,  Miles  was 
whipped  painstakingly.  Master  Hopkins's  flog- 
gings were,  on  the  whole,  not  so  severe  as  Good- 
man Rigdale  used  to  give  his  son,  but  Miles 
resented  them  with  an  amazing  outburst  of  anger. 
"  You  are  not  my  father ;  you  have  no  right  to  beat 
me,"  he  cried,  the  first  time  Master  Hopkins  took 
a  birch  rod  to  him,  and,  swinging  round  in  a  fury, 
he  lustily  kicked  his  chastiser's  shins. 

After  that  one  attempt  and  the  sorry  consequences 
which  it  entailed,  he  never  again  tried  to  defend  him- 
self, bat,  though  he  had  to  submit,  the  old  feeling 
remained ;  to  the  pain  and  shame  of  a  beating  was 
now  added  a  rankling  sense  of  the  injustice  and,  so 
to  speak,  of  the  illegality  of  it  all. 

Beatings,  though,  were  something  every  boy  in 
the  colony,  even  the  sober  Giles,  had  a  good  share 
of,  so  Miles  made  shift  to  endure ;  but  Master 
Hopkins  presently  devised  a  new-fangled  means  of 
persecution,  for  he  insisted  on  teaching  him  to  read. 


174  Soldier  Rigdale 

The  boy  had  clung  to  the  black-letter  Bible  be- 
cause it  was  his  father's,  and  sometimes  of  a  Sunday, 
between  the  morning  and  afternoon  teachings  at  the 
Common  House,  when  it  grew  irksome  to  sit  quiet 
and  do  nothing,  would  take  the  book  and  spell  out 
half  a  chapter,  and  amuse  himself  with  looking  at 
the  funny  black  letters.  But  one  Sunday,  a  warm 
May  Sunday,  when  Miles  was  lying  with  his  book 
in  the  young  grass  in  the  shadow  of  the  house, 
Master  Hopkins,  noting  his  unusual  employment, 
bade  him  read  aloud  to  him,  and,  as  he  was  a  man 
of  education,  was  honestly  shocked  that,  as  he  put 
it, "  the  lad  could  scarce  spell  out  his  mother-tongue." 

From  that  time  dated  Miles's  tribulations.  It 
was  useless  to  protest  that  he  could  read  well 
enough,  he  did  not  wish  to  read  better ;  Master 
Hopkins's  decree  went  forth  that  every  night 
after  supper  the  boy  was  to  come  to  him  with  his 
Bible,  and  read  aloud  a  chapter.  Miles  never  re- 
flected that,  after  a  day  of  hard  labor  in  the  fields 
or  woods,  or  of  serious  consultation  with  the  other 
leaders  of  the  colony,  it  could  be  neither  restful  nor 
pleasant  to  Master  Hopkins  to  hear  a  stupid  little 
boy  stumble  through  a  dreary  waste  of  words.  But 
he  was  quite  aware  of  the  unjust  fact  that  the  space 
of  daylight,  in  the  long  summer  evenings  after 
supper,  was  the  time  when  all  the  other  lads  were 
at   liberty  to   play,  while   he   must   drone   out  the 


The  Two  Edwards  175 

chronicles  of  dead  and  gone  Hebrews  with  unpro- 
nounceable names. 

The  reading  lesson  always  took  place  just  without 
the  house-door,  where  there  was  a  bench  on  which 
Master  Hopkins  sat ;  Miles  stood  beside  him, 
where  he  could  see  the  harbor  and  the  street,  with 
the  boys  passing  down  it  to  the  beach,  perhaps ; 
and  where,  too,  it  was  convenient  for  Master  Hop- 
kins to  cuff  his  ears  when  his  attention  strayed  hope- 
lessly from  the  book  to  the  affairs  of  his  playmates. 

Sometimes,  when  he  wished  to  get  away  and  join 
them  in  carrying  out  a  long-laid  plan  of  sport,  Miles 
would  pore  over  his  chapter  twice  or  thrice  in  the 
day,  and  so,  when  evening  came,  be  able  to  read 
it  fairly.  But  on  such  occasions  Master  Hopkins 
always  said  there  would  be  time  to  finish  another 
chapter ;  and  when  it  came  to  that,  poor,  disap- 
pointed Miles  always  stumbled,  so  that  his  lesson 
ended  in  disgrace  and  bitter  rebuke. 

Early  in  July,  however,  he  had  a  blissful  holiday, 
for  Master  Hopkins  went  with  Master  Winslow 
and  Squanto  far  inland  to  visit  King  Massasoit,  so 
for  five  days  there  was  no  one  to  bid  Miles  read  a 
word.  Neither  did  any  one  whip  him,  for  all  he 
shirked  his  weeding,  and  ran  away  to  fish  in  the 
harbor  with  Ned  Lister  and  the  sailor,  Trevor,  and 
played  by  the  brookside  with  the  other  boys  till 
long  after  dark. 


176  Soldier  Rigdale 

Dotey,  to  be  sure,  one  morning  when  Miles  for- 
got to  fetch  a  supply  of  water,  and  he  had  to  fetch 
it  himself,  threatened  to  "  swinge  "  him ;  he  was  a 
steady  fellow,  was  Dotey,  and,  since  Giles  was  but 
a  lad,  in  his  master's  absence  was  tacitly  admitted  to 
the  headship  of  the  household.  But  when  he  talked 
of  beating  Miles,  up  rose  Ned,  and  called  him,  with 
an  oath,  a  great  bully,  swaggering  in  his  little  ha'- 
penny borrowed  authority,  and  threatened,  if  he  laid 
hands  on  the  little  fellow,  to  break  his  head  for  him. 

It  was  in  the  living  room  this  happened,  just  be- 
fore the  noon  meal ;  Miles  remembered  afterward 
the  good  smell  of  the  roast  fish  Mistress  Hopkins 
was  setting  on  the  table,  and  what  an  overpowering 
heat  came  from  the  great  fire  on  the  hearth.  He 
was  standing  near  the  fireplace,  backed  up  against 
the  wall,  a  little  conscience-stricken  and  fearful  of 
a  whipping,  but  still  more  frightened  by  the  vehe- 
mence of  the  two  men.  Lister  had  swaggered 
across  the  floor,  and  stood  before  him,  and  Miles 
was  glad  of  his  protection,  though  he  half  realized 
that  it  was  not  alone  the  desire  to  defend  him,  but 
the  desire  to  defy  Dotey,  the  trusted  and  sober,  that 
spoke  in  Ned's  tone. 

Constance's  quiet  voice,  as  she  stepped  between 
the  two  young  men,  quelled  the  squabble:  "Don't 
curse  so,  pray  you,  Ned.  And,  Ed  Dotey,  do  not 
you  whip  Miles;  he  only  forgot  — " 


I 


The  Two  Edwards  177 

"  He  does  not  merit  whipping,"  spoke  slow  Giles, 
who  held  his  own  little  resentment  that  his  father's 
servant  was  set  in  authority  over  him. 

Mistress  Hopkins  interrupted  tartly  that  Miles 
needed  a  strong  hand  to  correct  him,  and  Dotey  was 
quite  in  his  right;  her  approval  made  it  lawful 
enough  for  the  young  man  to  carry  out  his  intention, 
but  Dotey,  like  a  discreet  fellow,  had  no  wish  to 
bring  about  a  scuffle  with  Lister  and  a  hot  family 
quarrel  in  his  master's  absence.  So  he  said,  as  if  it 
were  a  concession,  that  he  would  do  as  Constance 
asked,  and  let  Miles  off  this  time ;  and  with  that 
they  all  sat  down  peaceably  to  dinner.  Miles  ate  his 
full  share  of  the  fish,  and,  believing  this  episode 
happily  ended,  put  it  quite  out  of  his  head. 

He  had  good  cause  to  remember  it  some  ten  days 
later.  By  then  Master  Hopkins  had  returned,  so  it 
was  necessary  for  all  to  be  busy,  and  Miles  weeded 
in  the  corn-field  till  his  back  ached,  and  every  even- 
ing read  his  chapter  in  the  Bible.  But  one  morning, 
a  hot,  dull  morning  with  an  overcast  sky,  Ned  and 
Giles  planned  to  go  with  Squanto  to  fish  for  perch 
in  a  pond  far  up  in  the  woods,  and  Miles  received 
a  reward  for  his  diligence  of  the  last  few  days  in  a 
permission  to  go  with  them.  Giles  and  the  Indian 
started  on  ahead,  to  take  the  bait,  while  the  two  others 
stayed  to  make  ready  the  extra  tackle,  which,  being 
left  to  Ned's  management,  was  always  in  a  snarl. 


178  Soldier  Rigdale 

Lister  was  sitting  on  the  bench  by  the  house-door, 
whistling  a  little,  as  he  disentangled  lines  and  ad- 
justed hooks,  and  Miles,  kneeling  on  the  grass 
beside  him,  was  giving  what  help  he  could,  when 
Master  Hopkins  and  Dotey  came  out  of  the  cottage. 
Dotey,  who  had  an  axe  on  his  shoulder,  headed 
away  through  the  garden  to  the  hills  whence  fire- 
wood was  fetched,  but  Master  Hopkins  came  and 
stood  over  Ned. 

How  it  went  and  exactly  what  was  said,  Miles 
scarcely  comprehended,  but  he  heard  Master  Hop- 
kins's stern  voice  and  Ned's  sulky  answering  tones, 
and  in  the  lulls  the  rattle  of  trenchers,  as  Constance, 
inside  the  house,  cleared  the  breakfast  table.  The 
gist  seemed  to  be  that  Master  Hopkins  had  found 
out  about  Ned's  threatening  to  break  Edward 
Dotey's  head,  for  he  rated  him  soundly  that  he 
durst  lift  his  voice  against  one  set  in  authority 
over  him,  a  sober  man,  who  was  his  better  — 

"He  is  not  my  better,"  Ned  retorted,  flinging  up 
his  head,  with  his  eyes  sullen  and  angry. 

"  Do  you  grow  saucy  to  contradict  me  ?  "  Hop- 
kins asked  frowningly. 

Too  much  had  been  said  of  Dotey  for  Ned  to  cast 
off  rebuke  with  his  usual  shrug ;  flinging  aside  the 
tackle,  he  started  to  his  feet,  but,  before  he  could 
walk  away,  Hopkins  caught  him  by  the  shoulder. 
As  they  stood  thus  Miles  noted,  with  sudden  sur- 


The  Two  Edwards  179 

prise,  that  alongside  Master  Hopkins  Ned  looked 
slight  and  almost  boyish ;  somehow  Miles  had 
always  thought  of  him  as  a  man,  because  he  was 
old  enough   to  use  a  razor. 

"  You  shall  stay  till  I  have  done  with  speaking," 
said  Master  Hopkins ;  and  then  Ned  made  a  sud- 
den movement  to  free  himself,  flung  up  one  arm, 
half  involuntarily,  —  and  Stephen  Hopkins  reached 
him  a  blow  that,  taking  him  beneath  the  chin, 
stretched  him  flat  on  the  ground  at  his  master's  feet. 

The  women  came  to  the  house-door,  and  it  sur- 
prised Miles  that  it  was  not  Constance,  but  Mistress 
Hopkins,  who  cried,  in  a  frightened  voice:  "  Stephen, 
Stephen,  I  pray  you  —  " 

Ned  rose  to  his  feet  with  his  face  white,  and  stood 
brushing  the  dirt  off  the  side  on  which  he  had 
fallen  ;  there  was  a  great  brown  streak  of  it  along  one 
sleeve  and  the  shoulder  of  his  shirt.  "  There's 
work  you  have  made  for  the  mistress,  sir,"  he  said, 
and  began  laughing  in  a  high  key. 

"  That's  enough,"  Stephen  Hopkins  checked  him. 
"  Remember,  I've  never  laid  hands  on  you  ere  now, 
Edward  Lister,  but  if  you  mend  not  your  ways,  this 
will  not  be  the  last  time."  He  lingered  yet  a  mo- 
ment ere  he  turned  away  to  the  door,  as  if  awaiting 
an  answer,  but  Ned  made  no  reply,  just  stood  fum- 
bling at  the  fishing  tackle  with  one  hand,  while  the 
other  hung  limp  at  his  side. 


180  Soldier  Rigdale 

Only  when  Master  Hopkins  had  passed  out  of 
sight  into  the  house  did  Lister  raise  his  head,  and 
then,  squaring  his  shoulders,  he  led  the  way  toward 
the  street.  "  Will  you  not  take  the  tackle,  after 
all  ?  "  asked  Miles,  running  at  his  side.  Ned's  only 
answer  was  a  shake  of  the  head,  and  to  all  Miles's 
further  efforts  at  talk  and  one  clumsy  effort  at  sym- 
pathy he  kept  silent. 

They  left  behind  them  the  sandy  street,  and, 
skirting  along  the  bluff,  came  to  the  path  to  the 
spring  and  the  stepping-stones,  beyond  which  lay 
the  trail  to  the  ponds.  Ned  did  not  turn  off  there, 
however,  but  trudged  on  till  he  reached  the  little 
stream  that  flowed  from  the  pool  where  they  had 
cut  thatch.  "  Whither  are  you  going  ?  "  panted 
Miles,  for  the  third  time. 

"  Where  you  were  best  not  come,"  Ned  answered, 
crashing  into  the  bushes  on  the  right  hand.  But 
Miles  turned  doggedly  in  his  steps,  through  the 
first  crisp  thickets  and  then  along  the*  miry  ground 
by  the  edge  of  the  pool,  where  the  air  was  so  muggy 
that  he  wondered  Ned  cared  to  keep  up  his  reckless 
pace. 

Of  necessity  the  speed  slackened,  as  they  clam- 
bered over  the  pebbles  and  pushed  aside  the  crackling 
undergrowth  of  a  dry  gully  in  the  northern  hillside, 
but  it  was  not  till  they  were  tramping  through  the 
hushed  woods  on  the  summit  that  Ned  spoke:  "Did 


The  Two  Edwards  181 

you  know,  Miley,  my  father  was  a  gentleman  ?  A 
great  family,  the  Listers,  up  Yorkshire  way.  But 
he  was  a  mere  younger  son,  and  he  married  a  pretty 
serving  wench  out  of  his  father's  hall,  so  they  would 
have  no  more  of  him.  But  he  was  a  gentleman,  and 
he  tried  to  give  me  a  smattering  of  decent  breed- 
ing, —  "  there  Ned  began  to  laugh,  with  the  corners 
of  his  mouth  drawn  up,  and  his  eyes  mirthless, — 
"and  I  am  a  brisk  serving  fellow,  whom  the  master 
pommels  at  will,  eh,  Miles  ?  And  they  set  a  clod 
like  Edward  Dotey  over  me." 

There  was  going  to  be  a  fight,  Miles  guessed,  but 
though  at  another  time  he  might  have  been  secretly 
glad  at  the  prospect  of  such  excitement,  he  had 
seen  one  man  knocked  flat  that  day,  and  it  had 
not  been  amusing,  so  now  he  was  not  over-zealous 
for  the  sport.  "  Come  back  and  fish,  Ned,"  he 
coaxed,  plucking  at  his  companion's  sleeve,  when 
that  very  moment,  on  the  hillside  below  them,  both 
caught  the  sound  of  an  axe  falling  on  wood. 

After  that  Miles  scrambled  down  the  slope,  eager 
as  Ned  himself,  in  his  curiosity  to  see  what  would 
follow.  A  little  clearing  it  was  they  came  out  in, 
where  one  tree  had  been  newly  felled,  and  its  clean 
stump  showed  yellow;  by  the  tree  trunk,  leaning 
on  his  axe  and  wiping  his  sweaty  forehead  with  his 
sleeve,  stood  Dotey. 

"Well,  Neddy,  I've  come  to  talk  with  you,"  Lis- 


1 82  Soldier  Rigdale 

ter  greeted  him,  in  a  fleering  voice,  and  on  the  word 
set  himself  down  on  the  stump,  with  his  hands  clasped 
about  one  knee. 

At  first  it  was  a  talking  that  lay  all  on  Ned's 
side,  while  Dotey  tried  to  keep  up  a  pretense  of 
work.  Ned  spoke  words,  well-chosen  and  stinging, 
that  should  make  even  stolid  Dotey  wince,  and  spoke 
them  in  a  jibing  tone,  with  a  hateful  laugh  that 
startled  Miles,  even  more  than  the  sight  of  the  little 
pulsing  motion  of  the  blood  in  Ned's  dark  cheeks. 

Dotey  swung  round  impatiently  at  last.  "  Hold 
your  tongue,  will  you  ? "  he  cried. 

"  It  is  thou  who  wert  better  have  held  thy  tongue, 
Neddy,  before  thou  wentst  blabbing  to  Hopkins  of 
what  passed  between  us." 

"  I  did  not,"  Dotey  answered  blankly. 

"Thou  art  a  liar,"  quoth  Ned,  quietly,  and  still 
hugging  his  knee. 

Then  Dotey  strode  over  to  him,  and  Ned,  laugh- 
ing up  into  his  face,  jeered  at  him,  "  threaten  a  man 
with  his  fists,  would  he,  when  he  had  just  set  Hop- 
kins on  to  rebuke  him  for  the  like  offense ; "  but 
at  length  he  rose  up  and  cast  his  mocking  man- 
ner. "  We  are  agreed  there  is  one  Edward  too 
many  in  the  house,"  he  said  slowly.  "  Now  say 
we  despatch  one  forth  of  it.  Will  you  fight  me 
like  a  gentleman,  rapier  and  dagger  ? " 

In  a  daze  Miles  listened  to  Dotey's  first  protests, 


The  Two  Edwards  183 

Ned's  taunts,  till  the  final  agreement  was  struck  and 
the  arrangements  made.  "  I'll  contrive  to  fetch 
rapier  and  dagger  from  the  Captain's  house,"  Ned 
concluded,  "  and  do  you,  Miles,  take  those  that 
hang  in  Hopkins's  chamber,  and  bring  them  unto 
us  behind  the  Fort  Hill." 

Unquestioningly,  Miles  sped  upon  the  errand. 
The  sun  had  burnt  away  the  fog  now ;  among  the 
trees  it  was  hot  and  breathless,  and,  when  he  ran 
through  the  fields,  the  drying  earth  crumbled  under 
his  feet.  Yet  he  scarcely  minded  heat  or  dust,  as 
he  thought  on  what  was  now  to  come,  and  thrilled 
with  anticipation ;  for,  down  in  his  heart,  he  told 
himself  Dotey  and  Lister  would  never  hurt  each 
other,  and  he  had  never  seen  anything  livelier  than 
a  bout  at  quarterstafF,  and  a  real  duel  would  be  a 
wonderful  thing  to  witness. 

By  the  time  he  came  to  the  house,  he  was  all  of 
an  excited  flutter,  but  happily  Mistress  Hopkins 
alone  was  within,  and  she  was  so  busied  in  scouring 
her  pewter  platters  that  she  only  looked  up  to  ask 
sharply  what  brought  him  back. 

"Just  to  fetch  somewhat  for  Ned,"  Miles  an- 
swered guiltily  ;  and  then  fortune  favored  him,  for 
Damaris,  within  the  bedroom,  set  up  a  wail,  and 
Mistress  Hopkins  bade  him  run  in  and  soothe 
her. 

So  Miles  sang  to  baby,  and,  singing,  took  Mas- 


184  Soldier  Rigdale 

ter  Hopkins's  dagger  from  the  shelf  and  hid  it  be- 
neath his  doublet ;  then  slipped  the  rapier  from  the 
wall,  and,  after  a  hasty  glance  to  see  that  none  were 
looking,  dropped  it  out  at  the  open  window.  Still 
Damaris  would  not  hush,  and  he  had  to  pace  the 
floor  a  time,  singing  always,  though  his  voice  shook 
with  impatience,  and  his  forehead  was  wet  with 
perspiration. 

At  last  the  child  was  quieted.  Placing  her  on  the 
bed,  he  passed  quickly  out  through  the  living  room, 
and,  running  behind  the  house,  snatched  up  the 
rapier  from  the  grass.  Still  none  saw  or  inter- 
cepted him ;  the  men  and  boys  were  at  work ;  the 
intense  heat  of  the  day  kept  the  women  within  their 
cottages.  But  to  Miles  each  doorway  seemed  full 
of  faces,  and,  in  a  panic,  he  ran  for  the  northern 
spur  of  the  hill,  at  a  pace  that  brought  the  heart 
strangling  into  his  throat. 

On  the  west  side  of  Fort  Hill  was  a  little  level 
space  in  the  abrupt  descent,  where  some  pine  trees 
stood  wide  apart,  and  the  ground  was  brown  and 
slippery  with  pine  needles.  There  Lister  and  Dotey, 
both  with  their  doublets  and  shoes  cast  off,  were 
awaiting  Miles ;  Dotey,  with  his  stolid  face  grim, 
sat  on  the  ground,  turning  a  rapier  in  his  hands,  but 
Ned  Lister  was  pacing  slowly  to  and  fro. 

"I  came  —  fast  as  I  could  run,"  panted  Miles. 

"  You  saw  no  one  ? "    questioned   Lister,  as   he 


Saw  the  two  young  men  close  in  combat." 


The  Two  Edwards  185 

took  Master  Hopkins's  rapier  and  measured  it  with 
the  one  Dotey  held. 

"No,  no  one." 

"  Francis  Billington  has  been  spying  about  here, 
though,"  Dotey  spoke  evenly.  "  'Twas  while  you 
were  at  the  Captain's  house.  I  sent  him  packing. 
But  he  may  bring  —  " 

"  Ere  any  come,  we'll  be  done  with  the  work," 
Ned  Lister  interrupted.  "  Here,  Miles,  do  you 
run  up  to  the  hilltop  and  lie  you  down  in  the  grass. 
If  you  see  any  man  coming  upon  us,  whistle  us  a 
warning." 

The  grass,  in  the  glare  of  the  sun  where  the  trees 
had  been  felled,  was  a  dazzling  green,  and  the  slope 
was  very  steep.  From  the  summit  of  the  hill  where 
he  lay  down  half-hidden,  as  they  bade,  Miles  could  see 
the  blue  harbor  and  all  the  sunny  street  of  the  town, 
so  deserted  that  he  ventured  a  glance  back  over  his 
shoulder.  His  eyes  were  fastened  there,  for  he  saw 
the  two  young  men  close  in  combat ;  he  heard  the 
click  of  steel,  saw  the  quick  thrust  and  recovery,  the 
bending  and  swaying  of  the  struggling  bodies.  Then 
a  cry  rose  up  in  his  throat  and  choked  there,  for  he 
saw  the  dagger  fly  out  of  Dotey's  hand,  and  saw 
him  slip  upon  the  pine  needles. 

A  clatter  of  feet  on  hollow  boards  made  him  look 
suddenly  toward  the  gun  platform,  and  he  had  an 
instant's  sight  of  Captain  Standish,  who,  clapping 


i86 


Soldier  Rigdale 


his  hand  to  the  railing  of  the  platform,  cleared  it 
at  a  leap  and  ran  headlong  down  into  the  pine 
thicket.  Setting  his  fingers  to  his  lips,  Miles  gave 
a  shrill  whistle,  and  right  upon  it  heard  the  Captain 
cry,  in  a  terrible  voice,  "  What  work  is  this  ? " 
Casting  one  frightened  glance  down  the  hill,  Miles 
saw  Ned  lay  on  his  side  among  the  pine  needles, 
and  Dotey  stood  over  him  with  one  hand  dripping 
blood. 

The  sky  seemed  to  waver  and  the  whole  green 
world  to  stagger  with  the  horror  of  what  had  hap- 
pened. Miles  crawled  away  through  the  long  grass 
down  the  hillside,  through  the  undergrowth,  and 
never  paused  till  he  hid  himself,  terrified  and  sick, 
in  the  tangle  by  the  pool  in  the  hollow. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

A    MIGHTY    RESOLUTION 

THE  sun  had  dropped  behind  Fort  Hill,  and 
long  shadows  darkened  the  soft  sand  of 
the  street,  when  Miles  at  last  ventured  into 
the  settlement.  All  the  hot  day  he  had  lain  hidden 
by  the  pool  and  watched  the  shreds  of  cloud  skim 
across  the  deep  sky  and  harked  to  the  shrilling  of 
the  locusts,  while  he  tried  not  to  think,  yet  all  the 
time  was  conscious  of  the  awful  thing  that  had  hap- 
pened, in  which  he  had  had  a  hand. 

Disjointedly,  from  time  to  time,  he  had  planned 
how  he  would  act  a  part,  would  feign  to  be  quite 
ignorant  of  the  duel,  and  be  amazed  when  he  learned 
of  it ;  but  when  the  test  came,  when  he  found  him- 
self actually  in  the  street  of  the  town,  his  head 
whirled,  and  he  felt  that  his  guilt  could  be  read  in 
his  very  face. 

From  a  dooryard  some  one  called  his  name, 
whereat  Miles's  heart  fairly  ceased  to  beat ;  but  it 
was  only  his  friend,  Jack  Cooke,  who  came  running 
to  hang  over  his  father's  gate  and  speak  to  him  : 
"  Ah,   Miles,   where    ha'    you    been  ?      Have    you 

187 


1 88  Soldier  Rigdale 

heard  talk  of  what  happened  ? "  There  was  no 
time  for  Miles  to  stammer  out  a  vague  answer, 
before  Jack  ran  on  :  "  Ned  Lister  and  Ned  Dotey, 
they  fought  a  duel,  real  cut  and  thrust,  up  behind 
the  hill,  and  the  Captain  came  upon  them,  and 
they've  had  them  before  the  Governor  and  the 
Elder,  and  there's  been  such  a  to-do." 

"  Had  them  ?  Then  neither  was  killed  ?  "  Miles 
cried,  with  a  momentary  feeling  that  nothing  could 
matter,  if  both  men  still  lived. 

"  Nay,  but  Dotey  has  a  great  gash  across  the 
palm  of  his  hand,  and  Ned  Lister  was  slashed  in 
the  thigh  so  he  scarce  could  walk.  I  saw  'em  when 
they  were  fetched  down  into  the  village,  and  they 
have  locked  Dotey  up  at  Master  Allerton's  house, 
and  Lister  at  Master  Hopkins's." 

"  Wh — what  are  they  going  to  do  to  them  ?  "  fal- 
tered Miles. 

"  Something  terrible,  to  be  sure,"  Jack  answered 
happily ;  "  the  Captain  and  all  are  main  angry. 
And  Goodman  Billington  was  for  flogging  Francis 
mightily  out  of  hand,  but  the  Elder  said  stay  till 
to-morrow,  when  they  would  question  all  further." 

"  What  has  Francis  done  ?  " 

"  Why,  he  was  with  them  ;  he  kept  watch  while 
they  fought.  That  is,  one  of  the  lads  lay  in  the 
grass  and  whistled  them  ;  the  Captain  had  the  least 
glimpse  of  him ;  but  they  found  Francis  prowling 


A  Mighty  Resolution  189 

on  the  hill,  so  it  must  ha'  been  he.  He  says  'twasn't, 
but  Francis  is  a  deal  of  a  liar,  we  all  know." 

Miles  drew  a  long  breath,  and,  turning  from  the 
gateway,  went  scuffing  through  the  sand  down  the 
street.  It  was  Francis,  not  he,  whom  they  sus- 
pected, he  repeated,  but  the  next  moment  he  told 
himself  that  it  made  no  difference ;  since  he  was 
the  culprit,  he  must  come  forward  and  take  the 
blame.  But  when  he  saw  Master  Hopkins  sitting 
by  the  house-door,  his  heart  choked  up  into  his 
throat,  and  his  step  faltered.  After  all,  he  would 
not  speak  to  Master  Hopkins  yet ;  his  share  in  the 
duel  would  be  discovered  soon  enough. 

With  a  feeling  that  he  wished  to  propitiate  every 
one,  he  trudged  round  the  house  to  fetch  an  armful 
of  wood,  and  there,  by  the  pile,  Giles  was  at  work 
with  an  axe.  "  Well,  Miles  ?  "  he  said,  pausing  in 
his  task,  and  then,  as  Miles  came  to  his  side,  whis- 
pered him :  "  Look  you,  father  thinks  you  were 
fishing  with  me  all  this  day,  that  Ned  sent  you 
back  to  the  house  to  be  quit  of  you,  and  that 
you  came  home  with  me,  but  stopped  at  the  spring. 
I  told  him  naught ;  he  just  thought  so  and  —  I  let 
him  think  so." 

"  Oh,  Giles,  you  are  right  good,"  gulped  Miles. 
"Fori  —  " 

"  Hush  now !  I  don't  want  to  know  aught." 
And  Giles  went  back  to  his  chopping. 


190  Soldier  Rigdale 

No  one  would  find  him  out,  then ;  he  was  safe 
from  the  mighty  beating  he  expected.  Francis  — 
well,  since  he  was  innocent,  of  course  he  would  say- 
so,  and  they  would  believe  him  and  not  punish  him. 
Anyway,  he  had  no  thought  of  confessing,  Miles 
assured  himself  hastily,  as,  on  entering  the  living 
room,  he  met  Master  Hopkins's  stern  gaze. 

The  master  of  the  house  was  in  a  gloomy  temper 
that  evening ;  a  new  sense  of  the  gravity  of  that 
day's  happenings  came  over  Miles,  as  he  looked  on 
his  harsh  face.  Mistress  Hopkins,  too,  was  silenced 
completely,  and  the  young  folk  did  not  venture 
to  speak  while  their  elders  did  not  address  them, 
nor  had  they  any  wish  to  talk,  with  the  two  empty 
places  at  table  confronting  them.  No  word  was 
uttered  till  the  meal  was  nearly  eaten,  when  Mistress 
Hopkins,  after  a  swift  glance  at  her  husband,  cut  a 
thick  end  from  the  loaf  of  bread,  and,  setting  it  on 
a  trencher,  turned  to  Miles.  "  Fill  a  jug  of  water, 
and  carry  that  and  the  bread  to  Edward  Lister,"  she 
said  sharply. 

"  Edward  Lister  may  go  fasting  to-night,"  Master 
Hopkins  spoke,  in  a  grim  voice. 

Miles,  who  had  slipped  from  his  stool,  stood 
shifting  from  one  foot  to  the  other,  while  he  waited 
to  see  which  he  should  obey. 

"  Do  as  I  bid  you,  Miles,"  Mistress  Hopkins  re- 
peated steadily,  though  one  hand,  which  she  rested 


A  Mighty  Resolution  191 

on  the  edge  of  the  table,  clenched  in  nervous  wise. 
"  The  man  is  hurt,  and  whatever  he  has  done  he 
shall  not  go  hungry  and  thirsty.  Either  Miles  shall 
take  him  food  and  drink,  Stephen,  or  I  shall  do  so 
myself."  She  rose,  and,  filling  a  jug  from  the 
water-pail,  gave  it  to  the  dubious  Miles.  "  Take 
it  to  him,  there  in  the  closet,"  she  bade ;  so  Miles, 
without  waiting  for  Master  Hopkins  to  prevent, 
stepped  hastily  into  the  little  room  and  shut  the 
door  behind  him. 

The  closet  was  very  narrow,  very  hot,  and  very 
dusky,  for  the  evening  light  came  but  sparsely 
through  the  little  window.  Just  beneath  the  win- 
dow, where  whatever  slight  breeze  entered  the  room 
could  be  felt,  the  old  mattress  was  outspread,  and 
on  it  Ned  Lister  lay.  He  had  been  resting  his 
head  upon  his  folded  doublet,  but  at  Miles's  com- 
ing he  drew  himself  up  on  his  elbow  ;  his  face  was 
white  in  the  dimness,  and  he  looked  limp  and  sick 
and  cowed. 

"  Here's  bread  and  water,  Ned,"  Miles  began, 
as  he  crossed  to  him.  "And  —  and  I'm  mighty 
sorry." 

"I'm  not,"  Ned  answered,  in  a  dogged  tone.  "  I 
wish  only  that  I'd  killed  him.  Give  me  a  drink." 
He  took  the  jug  from  Miles  and  gulped  down  the 
water  with  audible  swallowings  ;  then,  when  he  could 
drink  no  more,  set  it  beside  him.     "They'd  'a'  made 


192  Soldier  Rigdale 

little  more  tumult  if  I  had  killed  him,"  he  went  on. 
"  But  I  care  not  what  they  do  to  me." 

"What  —  what  do  you  think  they  will  do  to  us, 
Ned  ?  "  Miles  quavered ;  the  young  man's  prisoned 
and  unfriended  state  and  desperate  tone  had  dislodged 
him  from  his  last  stronghold  of  security. 

"  They  spoke  of  flogging  us,"  Ned  answered 
hopelessly. 

"  A  public  flogging  ?  " 

"Yes." 

It  was  only  a  birching  Miles  had  looked  for. 
A  public  flogging !  The  horror  and  fright  were 
actual  and  overwhelming,  for  it  never  entered  his 
head  that  in  punishment  a  distinction  would  be 
made  between  the  two  principals  in  the  duel  and 
their  wretched  little  second.  "  Flog  us  !  "  he  re- 
peated dazedly.  "Or  —  or  perhaps  they  will  hang 
us  r 

"  I  care  not  if  they  do,"  Ned  retorted,  and,  tak- 
ing up  the  jug,  drained  out  the  last  of  the  water. 
"  Fetch  me  another  draught,  Miley,  that's  a  good 
lad,"  he  begged.     "  My  throat  is  all  afire." 

It  was  darker  now  in  the  living  room,  so  none 
could  note  the  expression  of  his  face,  and  Miles  was 
glad  for  that.  When  he  filled  the  jug  at  the  pail 
he  slopped  the  water  clumsily,  so  Mistress  Hopkins 
chided  him.  He  could  not  seem  to  think  or  even 
see,  for,  as  he  stumbled   back  into  the  closet,  he 


A   Mighty  Resolution  193 

bumped  his  forehead  against  the  door.  "  Oh,  Ned," 
he  whispered,  as  he  bent  over  the  injured  man  again, 
I  they  —  they  have  accused  Francis  in  my  place, 
but  I  —  " 

"Why,  that's  well,"  Ned  spoke,  as  he  set  down 
the  jug.  "I'm  glad  for't ;  you'll  not  be  punished 
along  o'  me.  I'll  tell  no  word  of  you,  Miley,  you 
may  be  sure,  and  if  Dotey  will  but  hold  his  blab- 
bing tongue  —  " 

"But  —  but  they'll  flog  him;  I  ought  to  tell  —  " 

"  Let  him  be  flogged,  the  imp  !  "  Ned  growled. 
"But  you,  Miley  —  " 

There  was  no  chance  to  finish,  for  Master  Hop- 
kins, appearing  in  the  doorway,  sternly  ordered 
Miles  to  come  forth,  and,  when  he  had  quitted  the 
closet,  bolted  the  door. 

By  now  it  was  too  dark  for  a  reading  lesson,  and, 
even  if  it  had  been  light,  the  whole  routine  of  the 
day  seemed  overturned.  Miles  wandered  out  into 
the  house-yard,  but  he  had  no  will  to  seek  the  other 
boys ;  they  might  talk  to  him  of  Francis.  Some- 
how, too,  he  did  not  wish  to  see  Dolly  or  Mistress 
Brewster,  who  had  told  him  how  his  mother  looked 
for  him  to  be  a  good  lad.  He  went  and  sat  down 
alone  on  the  woodpile,  where  he  harked  to  the  dis- 
tant frogs  that  were  piping,  and  watched  the  stars 
come  out  over  the  sea. 

So  he  was  still  sitting  when  at  last  Constance  stole 


194  Soldier  Rigdale 

out  to  him,  and,  putting  her  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
whispered  him  he  mustn't  go  away  and  grieve  so 
about  poor  Ned.  He  shook  her  off  surlily  ;  he 
was  tired  and  sleepy,  and  didn't  want  to  talk,  he 
said,  and  so  rose  and  slouched  away  to  his  bedroom. 
There  it  was  stiflingly  hot,  so  when  he  lay  down 
he  pushed  aside  the  coverlet,  and  even  then  he 
thrashed  restlessly. 

Presently  Giles  came  in  and  lay  down  in  the  other 
bed  that  Dotey  and  Lister  had  shared ;  he  did  not 
offer  to  talk,  but,  settling  himself  at  once  to  sleep, 
was  soon  breathing  regularly.  Miles  counted  each 
indrawing  of  his  breath,  and  tried,  breathing  with 
him,  to  cheat  himself  into  sleeping ;  and  tried  too, 
with  the  bed  beneath  him  scorching  hot,  to  hold 
himself  quiet  in  one  position.  His  face  was  wet 
with  perspiration,  and  his  head  ached.  Somewhere 
in  the  room  a  mosquito  sang  piercingly,  so  he  must 
strike  about  him  with  his  hands,  and  still  the  crea- 
ture sang  and  the  air  was  breathless,  and  he  could 
not  sleep. 

Then  he  ceased  the  effort  to  gain  unconscious- 
ness, and  deliberately  set  himself  to  face  it  all,  and 
reason  it  out.  He  had  done  a  wicked  thing,  and  he 
should  be  punished  for  it.  Francis  was  accused, 
but  Francis  was  innocent  and  must  be  declared  so. 
It  did  not  matter  though  his  comrades  bade  him 
keep  silent ;  it  was  one  thing  for  Giles  not  to  bear 


A  Mighty   Resolution  195 

tales  of  Miles,  and  another  for  Miles  not  to  bear 
tales  of  himself;  and  for  Ned  Lister's  way  of  think- 
ing, it  was  not  the  way  which  Captain  Standish 
would  have  counselled.  What  would  the  Captain 
think  of  him,  when  he  knew  him  for  a  rascal  who 
deserved  whipping,  Miles  wondered  miserably.  Yet 
it  was  the  Captain  who  had  told  him  hard  things 
must  be  done,  not  shirked  aside;  and  by  that  ruling 
Miles  realized  that  the  only  way  for  him  was  to  let 
them  know  it  was  he  himself,  not  Francis,  who  had 
borne  a  part  in  the  duel. 

Specious  objections  came,  and  he  crushed  them 
down  ;  and  there  came,  more  stubborn,  the  prompt- 
ings of  fear.  A  public  flogging,  Ned  had  hinted ; 
and  Miles  recalled  a  dull  day  in  the  market 
town,  whither  his  father  had  taken  him,  a  jeering 
crowd  of  motley  folk,  a  cart  with  a  fellow  laughing 
on  the  driver's  seat,  and  tied  by  the  wrists  to  the 
cart's  tail,  stripped  to  the  waist,  a  man  who  kept  his 
head  bent  down  and  never  winced,  for  all  the  great 
blows  the  constable  was  laying  across  his  shoulders. 
Even  now  Miles  turned  sick  at  the  remembrance  of 
the  red  gashes  the  whip  had  made.  But  Francis  had 
not  earned  such  punishment,  and  he  had  earned  it. 

Miles  rose  from  his  restless  bed,  and  stood  by  the 
window  to  catch  a  breath  of  air.  The  moon  was  up 
now,  and  a  pale,  hot  glow  lay  on  the  fields  to  north- 
ward, but  not  a  whiff  of  a  breeze  was  astir.     The 


196  Soldier  Rigdale 

harbor,  as  he  saw  it  from  the  window,  lay  glassy 
smooth  beneath  the  moon.  He  put  his  weary  head 
down  on  his  arms,  and  for  a  moment  did  not  think, 
only  wished  it  were  last  night,  when  the  duel  was 
yet  unfought. 

Then  he  lay  down  in  bed,  and  turned  and 
tossed,  and  went  his  round  of  courage  and  fears 
again.  He  was  not  conscious  that  there  had  been  a 
period  of  sleep  ;  he  had  no  sense  of  restfulness  just 
ending,  only  of  bitter  dreams,  but  he  found  the  room 
alight  and  a  faint,  early-morning  freshness  in  the 
air,  so  he  knew  some  time  had  passed  and  it  was 
day. 

He  did  not  remember  in  detail  the  thoughts  of 
the  night,  but  the  conclusion  was  the  same,  and  still 
clearer  for  him  to  see  in  the  glare  of  morning.  Ris- 
ing quickly,  he  dressed  himself  so  hurriedly  that  he 
was  done  before  sleepy  Giles  had  pulled  on  his  shirt ; 
then  went  out  into  the  living  room.  Mistress  Hop- 
kins was  lighting  her  fire  with  flint  and  steel,  and 
Constance  was  stirring  up  porridge  for  the  break- 
fast ;  but  he  gave  them  no  heed,  for  outside  the 
door  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  Master  Hopkins. 

"  Why,  Miles,  are  you  ill  ?  "  Constance  asked,  as 
she  looked  up  at  him. 

Miles  shook  his  head,  and  stepped  out  upon  the 
doorstone.  At  the  bench  alongside  the  door  Mas- 
ter Hopkins,  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  was  washing  his 


A  Mighty   Resolution  197 


face  in  a  basin  of  water ;  he  did  not  look  up,  but 
Miles,  without  waiting  for  his  notice,  plunged  into 
the  confession  while  his  courage  held.  "  Master 
Hopkins,  I  want  to  tell  you  —  " 

"What  is  it,  Miles?"  Hopkins  asked  curtly,  as 
he  began  wiping  his  face  on  the  big,  coarse  towel. 

"  It  was  not  Francis,  sir,  it  was  I.  The  duel, 
you  understand  — "  Miles's  voice  was  faint  and 
quavering,  —  "it  was  not  Francis." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Stephen  Hopkins 
then,  and  lowered  the  towel  from  his  face ;  the 
water-drops  clung  to  his  forehead,  and  his  hair  was 
all  on  end,  but  the  very  grotesqueness  of  his  look 
made  it  the  more  formidable  to  Miles. 

"  It  was  not  Francis,"  he  repeated  shakily,  while 
hrs  trembling  fingers  picked  at  a  splinter  in  the  door- 
frame. "  I  took  the  rapier  out  o'  your  bedchamber; 
I  was  in  the  grass  and  whistled  to  them."  He 
stopped  there,  with  his  eyes  on  the  toes  of  his 
shoes ;  he  did  not  want  to  look  at  Master  Hop- 
kins's face,  and  he  held  his  body  tense  against  the 
grasp  which  he  expected  would  hale  him  into  con- 
finement along  with  Ned  Lister. 

But  instead  there  was  a  sickening  silence  that 
seemed  to  last  for  minutes  ;  then  Master  Hopkins 
said  slowly :  "  I  marvel  why  that  you,  the  son  of  a 
godly  man,  should  have  a  hand  in  all  the  evil 
doings  of  the  settlement.     You  must  go  tell  this 


198  Soldier  Rigdale 

unto  the  Governor,  so  soon  as  breakfast  is  ended. 
And  I  shall  myself  speak  more  of  it  to  you." 

Mechanically  Miles  stood  aside  to  let  Master 
Hopkins  pass  into  the  house,  and  then  he  still 
stood  a  time,  gazing  at  the  gray  doorstone  beneath 
his  feet.  Presently  he  stepped  down  on  the  turf 
and  slouched  round  to  the  corner  of  the  house, 
where  Trug  was  tied  at  night ;  though  every  one 
thought  him  evil,  and  they  were  going  to  flog  him, 
Trug  would  still  lick  his  hands  lovingly.  He  un- 
tied the  dog,  and,  holding  to  one  end  of  his  strap, 
went  back  through  the  yard ;  Constance,  from  the 
doorway,  called  to  him  to  come  in  to  breakfast,  but, 
shaking  his  head,  he  walked  on. 

Outside  the  yard  the  street  was  quite  empty,  for 
the  colonists  were  all  at  their  morning  meal.  Miles 
trudged  slowly  through  the  sand  up  the  hillside, 
and  then  turned  down  the  path  to  the  spring,  which 
he  judged  at  that  hour  would  be  deserted.  Sure 
enough,  the  only  moving  things  beneath  the  high 
bluff  were  the  leaping  waters  of  the  living  well, 
and  the  sunbeams  that  sifted  through  the  branches 
of  the  encroaching  alders,  and  sprinkled  the  trodden 
turf. 

Casting  himself  down  on  the  margin,  Miles  took 
a  long  drink  of  the  water,  that  might  have  been 
brackish  and  hot  for  any  good  taste  he  had  of  it, 
then  sat  up  and  leaned  against  Trug,  with  one  arm 


A  Mighty   Resolution  199 

about  the  dog's  neck.  He  had  thought,  so  soon 
as  he  was  thus  by  himself,  he  would  cry,  but  he  felt 
all  choked  inside  ;  his  wickedness  was  too  deep  even 
for  tears. 

Suddenly  two  hands  were  clapped  over  his  face. 
I  Guess  who  'tis,"  piped  a  treble  voice,  and,  uncov- 
ering his  eyes,  Miles  thrust  up  one  hand  and  dragged 
Dolly  down  beside  him,  —  a  very  brave  Dolly,  in  a 
clean  apron,  with  her  scarlet  poppet  hugged  under 
one  arm.  "  I  ran  to  the  spring  for  Mistress  Brew- 
ster," she  explained,  "  but  I  cast  away  my  jug  when 
I  saw  you.     Why  are  you  here,  Miles  ? " 

"  Oh,  Dolly,"  Miles  burst  out,  "  I  have  been 
uncommon  wicked  and  helped  fight  a  duel,  and 
they  are  going  to  flog  me  through  the  streets,  and 
maybe  they'll  hang  me,  and  I  would  my  mother 
were  here."  He  mastered  the  inclination  to  screw 
his  knuckles  into  his  eyes,  and,  as  he  sat  scowling 
at  the  hill  across  the  brook,  and  blinking  bravely, 
to  keep  a  good  showing  before  the  little  girl,  a 
mighty  new  idea  popped  into  his  head  and  made 
him  happy  again.  "  But  I  shan't  let  them  flog 
me,"  he  said,  grandly  as  Ned  Lister  himself.  "  You 
tell  it  to  no  one,  Dolly,  but  I  have  it  in  mind  to 
run  away." 

"Whither,  Miles?"  the  damsel  asked,  with  in- 
terest, but  no  great  amazement. 

"  I   shall  go  into  the   woods   and   live  with  the 


200  Soldier  Rigdale 

Indians,"  Miles  said  slowly,  forming  his  plan  as 
he  spoke.  "They're  good,  pleasant  folk;  and  I'll 
build  me  a  house  of  branches,  and  eat  raspberries,  and 
maybe  kill  birds  with  a  sling,  and  I'll  have  Trug 
at  night."  It  occurred  to  him  that  Trug  would  not 
be  the  liveliest  of  company.  "  Why,  Dolly,  say 
you  come  too,"  he  cried.  "  We'll  keep  the  house 
together,  as  I  thought  they'd  let  us  when  father 
died." 

Dolly's  face  dimpled  at  the  prospect,  then  grew 
sober.  "  But  if  we  live  in  the  woods,  Miles,  we 
cannot  go  to  meeting  of  a  Sunday,  and  that  would 
never  do.  Let's  build  our  house  just  over  the 
brook  —  " 

"  Pshaw  !  "  said  Miles,  contemptuously,  "  I  might 
as  well  go  back  and  let  them  whip  me  now.  I'm 
going  away  into  the  forest.  Will  you  come?"  He 
rose  and  walked  manfully  toward  the  stepping-stones, 
but  Dolly  still  sat  hugging  her  poppet  in  her  arms. 
"  If  you've  no  wish  to  —  "  Miles  said,  feeling  brave 
and  important,  no  longer  a  poor,  trembling,  little 
culprit.  Then  he  turned  his  back  on  her,  and  gave 
his  attention  to  leading  Trug  safely  from  stone  to 
stone  across  the  brook. 

But,  as  he  gained  the  opposite  bank,  he  heard  a 
cry  behind  him:  "  Wait,  oh,  wait,  Miles  !  "  Dolly, 
with  the  poppet  in  her  arms,  came  slipping  and 
scrambling  across   the  stepping-stones   and  caught 


A  Mighty  Resolution  201 

his  hand.  "  Love  Brewster  says  he  does  not  like 
girls  and  went  away  to  play  with  Harry  Samson," 
she  panted.  "  And  you  are  the  only  brother  I  have, 
Miles,  and  I  love  you,  and  methinks  I'd  liefer  go 
with  you  and  be  an  Indian." 


CHAPTER    XV 

IN    THE    SOUTHWARD    COUNTRY 

ACROSS  the  brook  the  woods  spread  away  to 
westward  and  to  southward,  —  majestic  oak 
"  trees,  lulling  pines,  pale  birches,  besides  the 
walnut  and  beech  trees,  and  a  host  of  others,  the 
names  of  which  Miles  did  not  know.  Thick  though 
they  stood  in  the  forest,  all  were  soundless  now,  and 
well-nigh  motionless  in  the  still  air  of  morning.  In  j 
all  the  wood  the  only  active  thing  seemed  the  sun- 
shine, which  came  sliding  through  the  branches  to 
mottle  the  turf  or  make  the  pine  needles  shiny. 

An  ardent  sun  it  was  too,  even  where  it  fell 
sparsely  among  the  trees,  and  beyond  the  thickets, 
where  the  path  led  over  unprotected  hilltops,  it  beat 
fiercely  through  the  breathless  air  till  the  heat  fairly 
stifled  the  travellers.  "  Shall  you  go  far  before  you 
build  your  house,  Miles  ?  "  panted  Dolly,  when  the 
roofs  of  the  settlement  were  barely  sunk  from  sight. 

Miles  explained  that  he  held  it  best  to  push  on 
to  the  river  where  he  had  gone  eeling,  so  he  might 
have  plenty  of  fish  in  his  dooryard.  He  thought 
to  make  his  way  directly  to  the  place,  but  the  jour- 


In  the  Southward  Country  203 

ney  through  the  heat  seemed  longer  than  when  he 
tramped  it  in  the  springtime,  and  he  could  not  find 
an  easy  path  so  adroitly  as  Squanto  had  found  one. 
He  had  to  bear  away  inland  too,  lest  on  the  sea- 
coast  he  come  upon  some  of  the  colonists  gathering 
shellfish  ;  and  inland,  not  only  was  the  going  through 
the  undergrowth  difficult,  but  the  hills  shut  off  the 
least  whiff  of  coolness  from  the  sea. 

Soon  Dolly  gasped  for  breath,  Trug  lolled  out 
his  tongue,  and  even  Miles  found  many  pretexts 
to  rest.  Here  amid  the  moss  bubbled  a  spring, 
where  the  children  delayed  to  drink  and  cool 
their  hands ;  there  lay  a  muddy  pond,  covered  with 
white  lilies,  which  Miles,  though  he  wet  his  feet, 
strove  to  get  with  a  long  stick ;  and  again  and  yet 
again  they  came  on  tangles  of  luscious  raspberries, 
where  they  paused  to  eat  their  fill. 

Miles  had  in  his  pocket  a  fourpenny  whittle,  his 
dearest  possession,  with  which  he  stripped  a  great 
piece  of  bark  from  a  birch  tree,  and,  cleaving  two 
sticks,  shaped  it  into  a  basket,  in  which  to  carry 
away  some  of  the  berries  "  against  dinner-time." 
But  the  basket  proved  an  incumbrance  to  the  way- 
farers, so,  before  they  had  wandered  another  mile, 
the  two  children  sat  down  in  a  pine  grove,  and  ate 
the  berries  they  had  gathered.  They  tied  Trug 
carefully,  a  needless  precaution,  for  the  old  dog, 
with  as  burdening  a  sense  of  responsibility  as  Miles 


204  Soldier  Rigdale 

himself,  had  no  thought  of  trotting  home  and  leav- 
ing those  two  foolish  little  bodies  to  their  own  pro- 
tection. 

By  the  position  of  the  sun  Miles  judged  it  past 
noon,  when  they  came  at  last  to  a  brook,  which  he 
thought  might  be  the  upper  waters  of  the  stream  he 
was  seeking.  He  waded  in  first  to  try  its  depth ; 
then,  in  gallant  fashion,  would  have  carried  Dolly 
over,  but  little  mistress  wished  the  fun  of  paddling 
too.  The  alders,  coming  low  to  the  brookside,  cast 
a  rippling  shadow  on  the  water,  and  the  sandy  bot- 
tom was  firm  and  cool ;  so  when  both  children  once 
had  waded  in,  they  spent  some  time  in  splashing  to 
and  fro,  while  Miles  set  forth  to  Dolly  how  he  had 
caught  eels. 

The  shadows  were  beginning  to  lengthen  when 
they  climbed  out  on  the  farther  side  of  the  brook, 
and  passed  slowly  up  the  next  hillslope.  Dolly  now 
found  she  was  tired,  so  Miles  said  they  might  as 
well  build  their  house  there  as  anywhere.  Indeed, 
halfway  up  the  slope  they  found  a  capital  spot, 
where  the  hill,  drawing  back  on  itself,  left  a  little 
level  space,  with  sparse  undergrowth  and  tall  trees, 
the  vanguard  of  the  forest  higher  up,  that  cast  a 
good  shade. 

To  be  sure,  the  exposure  was  northern,  but  that 
would  make  the  place  cool  in  summer,  Miles  set 
forth  its  advantages,  and  when  winter   came,  they 


In  the  Southward  Country  205 

could  move  round  and  pitch  their  camp  on  the 
other  side  of  the  hill,  to  southward.  "  But  I 
shouldn't  like  to  dwell  in  the  wood  when  it  snows," 
protested  Dolly.  "  Let  us  go  back  and  stay  at 
Plymouth,  come  winter." 

But  Miles,  in  his  new  independence,  laughed  at 
the  idea  of  return,  and  assured  Dolly  that  he  knew 
how  to  make  her  a  snug  enough  house  for  all 
weathers.  He  would  drive  four  forked  stakes  into 
the  ground ;  and  then,  from  fork  to  fork,  he  would 
lay  four  sticks  ;  and  across  those,  other  great  sticks  ; 
and  thatch  all  over  with  moss.  He  would  drive 
stakes  into  the  ground  to  form  the  sides  of  the 
cabin,  and  wattle  them  with  elder  twigs ;  and  it 
would  be  just  the  trimmest  little  house  she  ever 
saw.  Yes,  he  could  drive  stakes  inside  and  divide 
the  space  into  rooms,  and  he  would  cut  windows  ;  the 
only  thing  that  troubled  him  was  how  to  build  the 
fireplace,  but  he  guessed  he  would  think  that  out 
presently. 

About  the  time  that  the  red  rays  of  the  sun 
slipped  under  the  lower  branches  of  the  trees,  Miles 
laid  off  his  doublet  and  rolled  up  his  shirt-sleeves, 
ready  for  work.  First,  with  his  heel,  he  scored  jn 
the  dirt  the  lines  of  his  house ;  they  mighi  us  well 
have  a  big  one,  he  replied  to  Dolly's  delighted 
exclamations. 

The  little  girl  ran  about  within  the  four  lines  and 


206  Soldier  Rigdale 

scored  for  herself  the  rooms  which  they  would  make. 
"  'Twill  be  such  sport,  Miles,"  she  chattered.  "  A 
keeping  room  we'll  have,  and  a  parlor,  and  a  great 
hall."  Down  she  set  herself  on  the  grass,  between 
the  wavering  lines  that  marked  the  hall,  and  waited 
for  her  brother  to  build  the  house  over  her. 

But,  though  Miles  strode  jauntily  down  into  the 
bushes  and  stayed  a  great  time,  when  he  came  back, 
he  bore,  not  an  armful  of  stakes,  but  two  forked 
sticks,  very  gnarled  and  crooked,  and  another  stick, 
some  five  feet  long,  without  a  fork.  "  What  have 
you  been  doing,  Miles  ?  "  Dolly  greeted  him,  in  a 
disappointed  tone. 

"  Why,  the  wood  is  hard,  and  my  knife  is  not 
very  big,"  the  boy  answered  sheepishly,  "  so  per- 
haps to-night,  as  'tis  drawing  late,  I'd  best  put  up 
just  a  little  shelter.  But  I'll  build  the  house  to- 
morrow, Dolly." 

Then,  because  the  little  girl's  face  fell  so  griev- 
ously, he  made  haste  to  amuse  her  by  turning  to 
such  work  as  he  could  do  that  evening.  With  a 
stone  for  a  hammer,  he  drove  his  forked  sticks  into 
the  ground,  and  laid  the  other  stick  across  them  ; 
♦■hat  was  the  ridgepole,  he  told  Dolly,  and  now,  lean- 
ing otner  boughs  against  it,  he  would  make  a  shelter 
that  would  be  quite  sufficient  on  so  hot  a  night. 

But  it  was  wearisome  work,  haggling  off  tough 
boughs  with  his  small  whittle,  and  he  was  tired  with 


In  the  Southward  Country  207 

walking,  and  perhaps,  he  reasoned,  as  it  was  draw- 
ing on  to  sunset,  he  were  best  not  leave  Dolly  alone 
by  herself  and  go  down  into  the  dim  thickets.  So, 
after  he  had  cut  enough  branches  to  go  a  third  along 
one  side  of  his  ridgepole,  he  said  vaguely  that  maybe 
he  would  get  some  more  before  dark,  and  so  sat 
down  close  by  Dolly. 

In  the  west  the  sun  had  already  sunk,  and  little 
pink  clouds  were  drifting  through  the  sky ;  the 
afterglow  still  lingered  on  the  open  land  of  the  val- 
ley along  the  stream  ;  but  in  the  woods,  as  Miles 
glanced  over  his  shoulder,  the  grim  shadows  lurked. 
It  was  awesomely  silent  too,  till,  on  a  sudden,  a 
bird  began  warbling,  and  presently,  fluttering  near, 
perched  on  a  branch  above  the  children,  where  he 
trilled  lustily. 

Miles  had  some  pebbles  in  his  pocket,  and,  slip- 
ping off  his  garter,  he  improvised  a  sling  ;  he  would 
kill  the  bird  for  their  supper,  he  told  his  sister,  but 
Dolly  protested ;  she  would  rather  the  pretty  bird 
lived  and  sang  than  that  she  should  eat  him.  So 
the  songster  finished  his  tune  and  flashed  away  into 
the  darkening  sky,  and  Miles  felt  as  warm  a  glow 
of  self-gratulation  at  giving  in  to  his  sister  as  if  he 
had  been  quite  certain  of  fetching  down  the  bird 
with  his  sling. 

"  But  we've  naught  for  our  supper  now,  Dolly," 
he   sighed   presently.     "  To-morrow,    though,    I'll 


2o8  Soldier  Rigdale 


find  my  way  to  the  shore  and  take  us  some  clams, 
and,  in  any  case,  we'll  gather  plenty  of  berries  when 
it's  daylight.  And  you  do  not  mind  going  supper- 
less  now  ? " 

"  N —  no,"  Dolly  assented  faintly ;  since  the 
twilight  came  on  them,  she  had  grown  very  quiet. 

"  I  wish  Ned  Lister  could  'a'  slipped  away  with 
us,"  Miles  resumed.  "  If  he  were  here  with  his 
fowling  piece  and  his  fishing  line,  he'd  take  us  all 
the  victuals  we'd  want.  And  he'd  be  good  com- 
pany, too." 

Then  they  sat  in  silence  a  time,  very  close  to  each 
other,  with  the  dog  at  their  feet.  Over  in  the  west 
the  bright  stars  twinkled  through  the  last  waning 
flecks  of  the  sunset  glow,  and  somewhere  in  the 
dark  the  frogs  were  piping.  "  Miles,"  whispered 
Dolly,  "  aren't  you  lonely  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  not,"  he  answered  stoutly. 

"Do  you  not  think  —  perhaps  we  could  walk 
back  home  ?     I'm  not  weary  now." 

"  I've  come  hither  to  stay,"  Miles  said  crossly; 
"  you  can  run  back  if  you  will ;  no  one  will  flog 
you." 

"  You  know  I  cannot  go  alone,"  whimpered 
Dolly.  "And  maybe  there  are  Indians  and  lions 
will  get  us.     Hark  !  " 

Miles  sat  erect  and  listened,  every  nerve  tense, 
but  he  heard  only  the   snap   of  a   branch,   yonder 


In  the  Southward  Country  209 

among  the  black  trees.  "  It  was  naught,  Dolly,"  he 
said  more  kindly,  "  and  you  needn't  fear ;  I  can 
take  care  of  you.  Come,  let's  lie  down  in  our 
shelter,  and  to-morrow  in  the  daylight  we'll  build 
our  house." 

They  crept  in  behind  the  screen  of  branches  slowly, 
for  Dolly  had  hold  on  Miles's  hand  and  would  not 
let  go ;  but  at  last  they  were  settled,  side  by  side, 
Dolly  next  the  leaning  roof,  and  Trug  close  against 
Miles.  "  The  leaves  tickle  my  nose,"  protested 
the  little  girl,  "  and  there  are  humps  in  the  ground, 
and  I'm  sure  that  bugs  will  crawl  into  my  ears." 
With  a  movement  that  quite  disarranged  her  com- 
panions, she  sat  up  and  tied  her  apron  over  her 
head ;  then  all  three  lay  down  once  more.  "  It's 
—  it's  fearsome  still,"  Dolly  whispered  once,  and 
then  no  further  words  passed  between  them. 

But,  although  he  was  silent,  Miles  lay  long  awake  ; 
his  body  might  be  weary,  but  his  brain  was  very 
busy  with  what  had  befallen  him  in  the  last  two 
days,  and  with  the  unknown  happenings  that  were 
yet  before  him.  When  he  forgot  the  strangeness  of 
the  place  and  fell  asleep  at  last,  he  dreamed  of  berry 
patches  and  ponds  full  of  lilies,  and  the  fine,  great 
house  he  meant  to  build  next  day. 

Somewhere  sounded  a  bewildering  crash,  as  if  a 
thousand  cartloads  of  stone  were  emptied  right  be- 
side him.     Miles  sat  up,  wondering  at  the  sound, 


210  Soldier  Rigdale 

wondering  where  he  was,  why  his  face  felt  wet, 
why  Dolly  clung  sobbing  to  him.  A  blinding  light 
for  an  instant  tore  across  the  sky,  and  showed  the 
trees  about  him  twisting  in  an  awesome  manner; 
then  darkness  closed  in  again,  and,  through  it, 
deafened  the  appalling  crash   of  thunder. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  Dolly,  don't  be  frightened," 
stammered  Miles,  clutching  his  sister ;  he  could 
feel  Trug,  with  his  whole  great  body  a-tremble, 
crowding  against  his  knee,  and,  through  Dolly's  ter- 
rified sobs,  heard  the  beast  whine. 

A  second  flash,  that  seemed  to  rip  the  sky,  lit  up 
the  black  woods,  and,  upon  the  roar  that  followed, 
sounded  the  rush  of  downpouring  rain.  As  if  in 
bucketsful,  the  water  broke  through  the  frail  little 
shelter ;  the  ground  beneath  the  children  grew 
sodden,  and  their  faces  tingled  under  the  smiting  of 
the  raindrops.  "  Come  away,  in  among  the  trees," 
cried  Miles,  through  the  sough  of  the  rain,  and 
dragged  Dolly  to  her  feet. 

"  Back  to  Plymouth,  oh,  let  us  go  back  to  Plym- 
outh," she  wailed. 

Without  reply,  Miles  gripped  her  wrist  and 
stumbled  up  the  hillside,  where  he  remembered  the 
thicker  growth  of  trees  began.  Bushes  tore  his 
clothes  and  buffeted  his  dripping  face ;  rain  blinded 
him ;  the  flash  of  the  lightning  dazzled  out  just 
long  enough  to  show  how  unfriendly  trunks  beset 


In  the  Southward  Country  an 

him,  then  flared  away  and  left  him,  half  stunned  by 
the  thunder  that  followed,  to  bruise  himself  against 
their  harsh  bark. 

Still,  blinded  and  beaten  and  breathless,  he  fought 
his  way  onward  and  at  his  side  haled  Dolly,  dumb 
with  the  bewilderment  of  the  storm.  He  had  for- 
gotten whither  he  hoped  to  go  ;  he  knew  only  that 
there  was  about  him  a  lurid  darkness  of  overpowering 
rain  and  rattling  thunder  through  which  he  fled 
away. 

It  had  been  several  moments  since  the  last  clap 
of  thunder,  he  realized  suddenly,  and  the  rain  that 
yet  pattered  noisily  among  the  leaves  did  not  beat 
upon  him  with  the  old  fury.  When  the  thunder 
growled  again,  it  was  from  far  in  the  distance,  and 
the  space  between  the  flash  and  the  crash  was  wider. 
"  'Tis  near  over,  Dolly,"  he  spoke  subduedly. 

The  little  girl  fetched  a  tremulous,  weary  sob  and 
made  a  movement  to  drop  down  on  the  wet  turf, 
but  Miles  held  her  arm  more  firmly.  "  Nay,  we 
must  keep  walking  till  we  be  dry,"  he  said,  in  what 
he  tried  to  make  a  brave  voice.  "  Maybe  we'll 
come  on  some  warm,  sheltered  spot,"  he  added,  for 
his  poor  little  companion's  comfort. 

Holding  each  other  fast  by  the  hand,  and  with  the 
dog  close  at  their  heels,  they  trudged  forward  into 
the  black  woods.  Though  lessened  in  force,  the 
rain  still  descended  in  a  steady  drizzle,  and  each 


212  Soldier  Rigdale 

bush  against  which  they  brushed  drenched  them 
with  an  added  shower.  The  ground  was  so  slippery 
and  thick  with  mud  that  Miles  began  to  fear  they 
had  strayed  into  a  swamp,  and,  when  they  stumbled 
at  last  upon  a  thicket  of  close-growing  evergreen,  he 
thought  it  safest  to  shelter  there  till  daylight. 

Crawling  in  beneath  the  low  branches  that  half 
protected  them  from  the  slackening  rain,  they  cud- 
dled close  to  the  dog  and  to  each  other.  "I'm  glad 
I  remembered  to  save  my  poppet,"  Dolly  sought  to 
find  some  comfort.  "  She'd  have  been  frightened, 
had  we  left  her  alone." 

So  Dolly  dropped  off  to  sleep  in  Miles's  arms, 
and,  lulled  by  the  drip  of  the  rain,  he,  too,  dozed  a 
time,  and  awoke  very  chilly  and  stiff.  The  branches 
above  him  stirred  in  a  gusty  wind,  and  in  the  mottled 
sky  he  could  see  some  faint  stars.  He  crawled  out 
from  the  thicket  and,  as  he  stood  up  in  the  freer  air, 
caught  the  smell  of  brine  in  the  breeze,  and  saw  that, 
in  the  quarter  of  the  heavens  whence  it  came,  the 
night  was  paling.  "  'Tis  eastward  yonder  and  the 
sea,"  he  cried,  delighted  to  find,  for  all  his  wander- 
ings, he  was  not  hopelessly  lost.  "  Come,  Dolly, 
we'll  walk  to  the  shore." 

Over  hills  and  through  thickets  they  trudged 
bravely,  in  the  exhilaration  of  knowing  whither  they 
were  headed,  and  that  the  dreadful  night  was  past. 
Slowly  the  darkness  was  waning ;  the  sky  faded  from 


In  the  Southward  Country  213 

black  to  gray,  and  in  the  wet  woods  a  bird  piped 
dolefully.  Presently  a  still  more  welcome  sound 
reached  the  ears  of  the  travellers,  —  a  long,  mourn- 
ful sough  as  of  breaking  waters.  "  It's  waves  ;  we're 
near  the  shore,"  cried  Miles,  and  added  a  feeble 
hurrah,  whereat  Trug,  judging  all  well,  leaped  and 
barked. 

There  was  yet  a  wide  stretch  of  bare  uplands  to 
cross,  and  the  morning  had  broken  in  earnest  before 
the  children  clambered  down  the  low  bluff  to  the 
sandy  beach.  The  tide  was  out,  and  the  brown 
rocks,  like  dead  sea  beasts,  lay  uncovered ;  but 
Miles  and  Dolly  gave  them  little  heed,  for  just 
then,  right  in  their  eyes,  the  sun  burst  forth  in  the 
east,  and  made  a  path  of  yellow  ripples  on  the  water. 

Forgetting  her  weariness,  Dolly  almost  ran  down 
the  hard  sand  to  the  water's  edge.  "  I  thought 
maybe  I  could  see  Plymouth  round  that  point  on 
our  left,"  she  told  Miles  disappointedly.  "  We 
can  walk  thither,  can  we  not,  along  the  shore  ? " 

"  We'll  eat  breakfast  first,"  said  Miles,  who  had 
found  a  great  shell  upon  the  sand.  "  I'll  wade  out 
and  dig  clams,  while  you  fetch  seaweed  for  the  fire." 

He  had  not  yet  made  up  his  mind  about  the  re- 
turn to  the  settlement ;  to  be  sure,  he  was  very  wet 
and  hungry,  but  it  did  not  rain  every  night,  and  with 
the  thought  of  Plymouth  came  the  dreadful  vision 
of  the  public  flogging.     Besides,  now  it  was  daylight, 


214  Soldier  Rigdale 

it  was  good  to  be  his  own  man  and  get  his  own 
breakfast ;  so  he  paddled  about  bravely,  and  did 
not  complain,  for  all  the  mud  and  water  were  cold 
and  the  clams  few,  and  his  back  ached  with  stoop- 
ing to  dig  them.  A  dozen  were  enough  for  two,  he 
concluded,  so  when  he  had  that  number  disposed 
securely  in  his  doublet,  which  he  had  twisted  into  a 
bag,  he  splashed  shoreward. 

Dolly  had  patiently  fetched  a  mass  of  slippery 
seaweed,  and,  while  he  drew  on  his  shoes  and  stock- 
ings, she  arranged  stones  with  the  clams  on  top,  and 
the  seaweed  all  about  them. 

"  And  now  I'll  light  the  fire,"  Miles  said  soberly, 
as  he  rose  up  and  stamped  his  feet  in  his  wet  shoes. 
Taking  a  smooth  stone,  he  knelt  over  the  seaweed, 
and,  striking  the  stone  with  his  whittle,  sought  to 
get  a  spark.  But  it  seemed  not  a  proper  flint,  for 
though  he  struck  and  struck,  no  spark  came,  and 
Dolly,  cold  and  hungry,  grew  impatient,  whereat 
Miles  rebuked  her  sternly  :  "  'Tis  like  a  girl.  I'm 
doing  the  best  I  can.     Hush,  will  you,  Dolly  ?  " 

Then  he  forgot  his  petty  wrangling,  for,  at  a 
growl  from  Trug,  he  looked  to  the  bluff,  and  there, 
between  him  and  the  safe  inland  forest,  he  saw  a 
little  group  of  people  coming  toward  him.  The 
look  on  his  face  made  Dolly,  who  knelt  opposite 
him,  glance  back  over  her  shoulder.  "  Oh,  Miles," 
she  gasped,  "  'tis  the  savages  come  for  us  ! " 


"  <  Oh,    Miles,    'tis  the  savages  come  for  us 


In  the  Southward   Country  215 

Miles  stood  up  and  held  Dolly  close  to  him  with 
one  arm,  while  he  grasped  Trug's  collar  with  the 
other  hand.  "  They're  all  friendly,  Dolly,  all 
friendly,"  he  repeated,  and  wondered  that  his  voice 
was  so  dry  and  faint. 

A  little  up  the  sand  the  Indians  stopped  ;  several 
who  kept  to  the  rear  were  squaws,  with  hoes  of 
clam-shell  and  baskets,  but  at  the  front  were  two 
warriors,  who  now  came  noiselessly  down  the  beach. 
"  Quiet,  Trug,"  Miles  said,  stoutly  as  he  could, 
and,  as  the  savages  drew  near,  greeted  them  boldly 
with  the  Indian  salutation  he  had  learnt  of  Squanto : 
"  Cowompaum  sin  ;  good  morrow  to  you." 

They  halted  close  to  him,  though  evidently  a 
bit  uncertain  as  to  the  snarling  Trug;  they  spoke, 
but  he  could  make  out  no  word  of  their  rapid 
utterance.  "  I'm  a  friend,"  he  repeated,  hopeless  of 
getting  any  good  of  his  little  store  of  Indian  words, 
almost  too  alarmed  even  to  recall  them.  "  I  come 
from  Plymouth, —  "  he  pointed  up  the  shore  where 
the  settlement  lay, —  "and  I  want  to  go  back  thither." 

He  made  a  movement  as  if  to  start  up  the  shore, 
when  one  of  the  Indians  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm  and 
pointed  southward.  Miles  shook  his  head,  while 
dumb  terror  griped  his  heart ;  these  were  none  of 
King  Massasoit's  friendly  Indians,  but  people  from 
the  Cape,  such  as  had  fought  the  Englishmen  in  the 
winter.     "  Let  me  go  home,"  he  repeated  unsteadily. 


2i 6  Soldier  Rigdale 

But  without  heeding  him  one  loosed  his  arm  from 
about  Dolly's  waist.  Thereat  Trug,  with  his  hair 
a-bristle,  gathered  himself  to  spring,  and  the  other 
warrior  gripped  the  club  he  carried  in  his  hand. 
"  You  shan't  kill  my  dog  !  "  screamed  Miles,  seiz- 
ing Trug's  collar  to  hold  him  back ;  and  at  that  the 
savage,  taking  Dolly  from  beside  him,  lifted  her  in 
his  arms. 

The  other  Indian  would  have  picked  up  Miles, 
but  he  dodged  his  hand,  and,  dragging  Trug  with 
him,  ran  up  alongside  the  warrior  who  held  Dolly. 
The  little  girl  lay  perfectly  quiet,  her  eyes  round 
with  terror,  and  her  lips  trembling.  "  Don't  be 
afraid,  Dolly,"  quavered  Miles,  in  what  he  tried  to 
make  a  stout  voice,  "  no  matter  where  they  take  us. 
They  shan't  hurt  you ;  Trug  and  I  won't  let  them 
hurt  you." 


CHAPTER  XVI 


THE    HOUSE    OF    BONDAGE 


IT  does  not  become  an  Englishman  to  make  a 
weak  showing  before  unclad  savages ;  so  pres- 
ently Miles  swallowed  the  sob  that  was  fighting 
a  way  up  his  throat,  mastered  the  other  shaky  signs 
of  his  terror,  and  put  his  whole  attention  to  keeping 
pace  with  his  captors.  They  were  now  well  in 
among  the  trees,  where  the  undergrowth,  after. the 
Indian  custom,  had  been  thinned  by  fire,  so  between 
the  great  blackened  trunks  opened  wide  vistas,  as  in 
an  English  park. 

To  Miles  each  open  glade  looked  like  every 
other  one,  but  the  Indians  found  amid  the  trees  a 
distinct  trail  along  which  they  hastened,  single  file, 
with  the  tall  warrior  who  bore  Dolly  in  the  lead. 
Miles  kept  persistently  at  his  heels,  though  the 
breath  was  short  in  his  throat,  and  his  whole  body 
reeked  with  perspiration.  The  sun,  all  unobscured 
and  yellow,  was  climbing  steadily  upward,  and,  by 
the  fact  that  it  shone  on  the  left  hand,  he  knew  that 
they  were  going  southward  ever,  southward  into  the 
hostile  country. 

About  mid-morning  they  descended  a  sandy 
217 


218  Soldier  Rigdale 

slope,  where  pine  trees  grew,  to  a  brook  with  a 
white  bottom.  Miles  gathered  his  strength,  and, 
making  a  little  spurt  ahead,  flung  himself  down  by 
the  stream  to  drink ;  he  felt  cooler  for  the  draught, 
but,  when  he  dragged  himself  to  his  feet,  he  found 
that,  after  his  little  rest,  his  tired  legs  ached  the 
more  unbearably,  so  he  made  no  objection  when  the 
Indian  with  the  club,  lifting  him  unceremoniously 
to  his  back,  carried  him  dry-shod  through  the  brook. 

Even  on  the  other  side,  Miles  made  no  struggle 
to  get  down ;  it  would  be  useless,  he  judged,  and 
then  he  was  too  worn  out  to  tramp  farther  at  such 
speed.  He  settled  himself  comfortably  against  his 
bearer's  naked  shoulders,  and  offered  not  half  so 
much  protest  as  Trug,  who,  trotting  at  the  Indian's 
side,  now  and  again  looked  to  his  master  and  whined 
anxiously. 

As  soon  as  he  was  a  bit  rested,  Miles  began  to 
take  closer  note  of  the  country  through  which  they 
were  passing,  —  a  country  of  spicy  pine  thickets 
and  of  white  dust,  that  powdered  beneath  the  feet 
of  the  Indians.  From  his  lofty  perch  he  could  pluck 
tufts  of  glossy  pine  needles  as  they  brushed  under 
the  lower  branches  of  the  trees,  and,  hungry  as  he 
was,  he  did  not  find  them  ill  to  chew.  Presently 
he  tried  to  converse  with  his  Indian.  "  Tonokete 
naum  ?  "     he  questioned.     "  Whither  go  you  ?  " 

The  savage  answered  in  a  pithy  phrase,  of  which 


The  House  of  Bondage  219 

Miles  made  out  only  the  word  Ma-no-met.  That, 
he  had  a  vague  remembrance  of  hearing  the  men  say, 
was  a  place  somewhere  to  the  southward;  but,  at 
least,  it  was  not  Nauset,  where  the  Indians  who  had 
fought  the  English  lived.  In  quite  a  cheerful  tone, 
Miles  called  out  to  Dolly  their  destination,  and, 
with  something  of  his  former  confidence,  set  him- 
self to  watch  for  the  town  ;  he  could  not  help  im- 
agining it  would  be  a  row  of  log  cabins  in  a  clearing, 
just  like  Plymouth. 

But,  for  what  to  him  seemed  long  hours,  he  saw 
no  sign  of  a  house,  just  the  monotonous  sheen  of 
the  pine  trees  where  the  sun  struck  upon  them, 
and  the  dust  that  burst  whitely  through  its  sprin- 
kling of  pine  needles.  Now  and  again,  through  the 
branches,  he  caught  the  glimmer  of  sunny  water, 
where  some  little  pond  lay  ;  and  once,  when  the 
trail  led  down  into  a  hollow,  sand  gave  place  to 
the  clogging  mire  of  a  bog,  and  the  scrub  pines 
yielded  to  cedars. 

The  slope  beyond,  with  its  pines  thickening  in 
again,  was  like  all  the  rest  of  the  wood,  so  like  that 
Miles  had  suffered  his  eyes  to  close  against  the 
weary  glare  and  the  hot  dust,  when  a  sudden  note 
of  shrill  calling  made  him  fling  up  his  head.  They 
were  just  breasting  the  ridge  that  had  been  before 
them,  and  the  trees,  dwindling  down,  gave  a  sight 
of  what  lay  at  the  farther  side. 


220  Soldier  Rigdale 

Unbroken  sunlight,  Miles  was  first  aware  of, — 
sunlight  dazzling  from  the  hot  sky,  beating  upward 
from  blue  water,  glaring  on  green  pines  that  spread 
away  beyond ;  and  then,  as  the  dissonant  calls  that 
made  his  whole  body  quiver  drew  his  eyes  to  the 
right,  he  saw  in  the  stretch  of  meadow-land  between 
the  creek  and  the  ridge  a  squalid  group  of  unkempt 
bark  wigwams.  The  smoke  that  curled  upward 
from  their  cone-like  summits  seemed  to  waver  in 
the  heat,  and  for  an  instant  Miles  blinked  stupidly 
at  the  smoke,  because  he  dared  not  look  lower 
where  he  must  see  the  varied  company  of  coppery 
people  who  were  flocking  noisily  forth  from  their 
shelters. 

Of  a  sudden,  as  if  starting  from  a  bad  dream,  he 
writhed  out  of  his  captor's  hold  and  dropped  to  his 
feet  in  the  sand.  The  Indian's  grasp  tightened 
instantly  on  his  arm ;  but  in  any  case,  whatever 
they  meant  to  do  to  him,  even  to  kill  him,  it  was 
better  to  walk  into  Manomet  than  to  be  carried 
thither  like  a  little  child.  Where  there  might  be 
other  lads,  too,  it  went  through  Miles's  head,  even 
in  the  midst  of  his  sick  fear. 

Other  boys  there  were,  certainly,  squaws  and 
warriors  too,  all  thronging  jabbering  round  him,  so 
that,  with  a  poor  hope  that  he  at  least  might  prove 
friendly,  Miles  clung  tight  to  the  hand  of  the  Indian 
who  had  carried  him.     Wolfish  yelp  of  dogsv  shrill, 


The  House  of  Bondage  221 

frightened  cries  of  children,  clatter  of  the  curious 
squaws,  —  all  deafened  and  bewildered  him.  Close 
about  him  he  beheld  crowding  figures,  —  bare  bodies 
that  gleamed  in  the  sunlight,  swarthy,  grim  faces, 
eyes  alert  with  curiosity,  —  and,  overarching  them 
all,  the  hot,  blue  sky  that  blinded  him. 

Along  with  their  Indian  masters  ran  dogs,  prick- 
eared,  fox-like  curs,  one  of  which  suddenly  darted 
upon  Trug.  Above  the  chatter  of  the  curious  folk 
Miles  heard  the  currish  yelp,  the  answering  snarl ; 
but  ere  he  could  cry  out  or  move,  the  old  civilized 
mastiff  caught  the  savage  cur  by  the  scruff,  and, 
shaking  the  life  out  of  his  mangy  body,  flung  him 
on  the  sand. 

Miles  let  go  the  Indian's  hand,  and  cast  him- 
self upon  his  dog,  while  his  mind  rushed  back  to 
a  dreadful  day  in  England,  when  Trug  had  slain  a 
farmer's  tike,  whose  owner  had  threatened  to  brain 
"  the  curst  brute  "  ;  people  did  not  like  to  have  your 
dog  kill  their  dog,  Miles  remembered  with  terror ; 
so,  catching  Trug  by  the  collar,  he  buffeted  his  head, 
a  punishment  which  the  old  fellow,  with  his  tushes 
still  gleaming,  endured  meekly. 

The  Indians,  who  had  been  pressing  round  him, 
had  shrunk  back  a  little,  Miles  perceived,  as  he 
paused  for  breath ;  they  could  not  be  used  to  big 
mastiffs.  "  The  dog  will  not  worry  you,"  he  ad- 
dressed the  company  in  a  propitiating  voice.     "  That 


222  Soldier   Rigdale 

is,  he  won't  worry  you  unless  you  harm  Dolly  and 
me. 

They  could  not  understand  his  words,  he  realized, 
but  they  could  understand  gestures,  so  with  a  bold 
front  he  gripped  Trug's  collar,  and  urged  the  old 
dog,  still  grumbling,  along  with  him.  He  walked 
bravely  too,  with  his  chin  high  and  his  neck  stiff,  for 
all  there  was  a  fluttering  sensation  up  and  down  his 
legs.  He  was  not  afraid,  he  assured  himself,  while 
he  pressed  his  hand  upon  Trug's  warm  neck  for 
comfort,  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  tall  warrior  strid- 
ing before  him  who  still  bore  Dolly. 

Suddenly  Miles  perceived  the  press  about  him  to 
give  way  a  little,  and  out  from  amidst  the  people  an. 
old  man  came  gravely  toward  him.  He  was  a  tall 
old  man,  with  a  wrinkly  face,  and  his  dress  was 
squalid  and  scanty  as  that  of  the  others,  but  by  the 
many  beads  of  white  bone  that  hung  on  his  bare 
breast,  Miles  judged  him  to  be  the  chief  of  Manomet, 
Canacum.  So  he  made  his  most  civil  bow,  though 
he  could  not  keep  his  knees  from  trembling  a  bit ; 
but  he  looked  up  courageously  into  the  old  Indian's 
face,  and,  as  he  did  not  speak  first,  at  length  politely 
bade  him  "  Cowompaum  sin." 

He  could  not  understand  —  indeed,  apprehen- 
sive as  he  was,  he  scarcely  had  the  wit  to  try  to 
understand  —  what  was  said  to  him  in  reply,  but 
he  knew  the  old  man  took  him  by  the  hand,  so 


The  House  of  Bondage  223 

in  tremulous  obedience  he  went  whither  he  was 
led. 

The  blue  sky  was  all  blurred  out,  as  he  passed 
through  the  opening  of  one  of  the  black  wigwams  ; 
an  intolerable  smoky  odor  half  choked  him ;  and  his 
eyes  were  blinded  with  the  dimness  all  about  him. 
But  out  of  the  dusk  he  heard  Dolly  call  his  name, 
and,  stumbling  toward  the  sound,  he  put  his  arms 
about  his  sister. 

As  he  grew  more  accustomed  to  the  dim  light, 
he  saw  the  old  Chief,  squatting  on  a  mat  at  the 
back  of  the  wigwam,  and  saw  the  shadowy  gesture 
that  bade  him  sit  beside  him.  Almost  cheerfully, 
since  he  held  Dolly's  hand  in  his,  Miles  obeyed ; 
and  for  the  moment,  as  Trug  stretched  himself  at 
his  feet,  and  Dolly  snuggled  close  to  his  side,  felt 
secure  and  whispered  his  sister  not  to  fear. 

There  was  no  time  to  say  more,  for,  amidst  the 
confusion  of  folk  that  crowded  the  dusky  wigwam, 
he  now  made  out  two  squaws,  who  drew  near,  and, 
with  their  curious  eyes  fixed  on  him,  set  before  him 
food  —  a  kind  of  bread  of  the  pounded  maize  and 
ears  of  young  corn  roasted. 

It  did  not  need  the  Chief's  gesture  to  bid  Miles 
fall  to ;  he  might  be  more  than  a  little  frightened, 
but  he  was  also  very  hungry,  for  it  was  near  eight- 
and-forty  hours  since  he  had  tasted  heartier  food 
than  raspberries.     He  now  ate  with  such  good  will 


224  Soldier  Rigdale 

that  nothing  was  left  of  the  victuals  but  the  corn- 
cobs, and  he  persuaded  Dolly  to  eat  too,  though  it 
was  hard  work  to  coax  the  child  to  lift  her  head  from 
his  shoulder.  "  I  do  not  like  to  look  on  the  Ind- 
ians," she  murmured  tearfully,  between  two  hungry 
mouthfuls  of  corn.  "  I  would  they  did  not  so  stare 
at  us." 

They  were  not  over-civil,  Miles  thought,  though, 
after  all,  they  scarcely  stared  at  their  white  guests 
more  rudely  than  Miles  himself  had  gazed  at  Mas- 
sasoit,  when  the  latter  visited  Plymouth.  He  might 
not  have  minded  their  staring,  if  there  had  not  been 
so  many  of  them,  —  squatting  and  lying  all  through 
the  wigwam,  on  the  floor,  or  on  the  mats,  or  on  a 
broad,  shelf-like  couch  which  ran  all  about  the 
lodge,  —  and  if  the  bolder  ones  had  not  been  curi- 
ous to  feel  of  his  shirt,  —  his  doublet  was  left  be- 
hind on  the  beach  where  he  had  taken  the  clams,  — 
and  of  his  shoes,  and  of  Dolly's  gown,  though  no 
one  cared  to  put  a  hand  upon  the  bristling  and 
growling  Trug. 

They  chattered  a  wearisome  deal  too,  till  Miles's 
head  ached  with  the  clamor,  the  squaws  very  shrilly, 
and  the  men  in  guttural  tones ;  the  old  Chief  seemed 
to  be  questioning  the  Indians  who  had  found  the 
children  on  the  beach,  but  presently  he  turned  and 
addressed  Miles. 

The  boy  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  speaker's  face  and 


The  House  of  Bondage  225 

tried  to  understand,  but,  while  all  things  about  him 
were  so  strange  and  ominous,  it  was  hard  to  keep 
his  thoughts  on  the  hasty  sounds.  He  did  make 
out  that  the  Chief  asked  him  whence  he  came,  and, 
answering  "  Patuxet,"  he  pointed  whither  he  judged 
the  Plymouth  plantation  lay.  "  I  should  like  to  go 
back  thither,"  he  suggested,  and  endeavored,  with 
signs  and  his  few  poor  words  of  the  Indian  lan- 
guage, to  explain  that,  if  they  took  Dolly  to  the 
settlement,  the  people  would  give  them  knives  and 
beads.  He  started  to  make  the  same  arrangement 
for  himself,  but  he  judged  it  useless ;  he  doubted  if 
Master  Hopkins  would  think  him  worth  buying 
back. 

But,  even  in  Dolly's  case,  no  one  made  a  move- 
ment to  grant  Miles's  request,  and  though  the  old 
Chief  spoke,  for  an  Indian,  at  some  length  and  in  a 
civil  tone,  he  did  not  mention  Patuxet  nor  a  return 
thither.  Miles  swallowed  down  a  lump  in  his  throat, 
and  said  bravely  to  Dolly  that  he  guessed  they'd 
have  to  spend  the  night  with  the  savages,  but  they 
seemed  kindly  intentioned. 

Through  the  low  opening  that  formed  the  door 
of  the  wigwam  he  could  see  now  that  a  long,  gray 
shadow  from  the  pine  ridge  lay  upon  the  trodden 
sand ;  the  afternoon  must  be  wearing  to  a  close. 
Moment  by  moment  he  watched  the  shadow  stretch 
itself  out,  till  all  was  shadow  and  a  thicker  dimness 


226  Soldier  Rigdale 

rilled  the  wigwam,  and  on  the  bit  of  sky,  which 
he  could  see  through  the  smoke-hole  in  the  roof, 
brooded  a  purplish  shade.  It  was  evening  in 
earnest,  and  it  should  be  supper  time,  Miles  told 
Dolly ;  but  Dolly,  resting  half-asleep  against  his 
arm,  made  no  answer. 

Miles  himself,  for  all  his  apprehensions,  was 
heavy  with  the  weariness  of  the  last  two  days,  so, 
whatever  the  morrow  might  have  in  store,  he  was 
glad  when,  one  by  one,  the  Indians  slipped  away 
like  shadows,  and  he  judged  it  bedtime.  He  and 
his  sister  were  to  sleep  on  the  couch-like  structure 
by  the  wall,  he  interpreted  the  Chief's  gestures,  so 
willingly  he  bade  Dolly  and  Trug  lie  down  ;  then 
stretched  himself  beside  them.  A  comfortable  rest- 
ing place  it  was,  very  springy  and  soft  with  skins  ; 
but,  ere  Miles  could  reassure  Dolly  and  settle  him- 
self for  the  night,  Trug  began  to  growl,  and  the 
great  couch  to  groan,  as  what  seemed  an  endless 
family  of  Indians  cast  themselves  down  alongside 
them. 

"I  —  I  wish  I  were  home  in  my  own  bed," 
Dolly  protested,  with  a  stifled  sob. 

Miles  hushed  her,  in  some  alarm  lest  the  savages 
might  not  approve  of  people  who  cried;  but  his 
Indian  bedfellows  never  heeded  Dolly's  tears,  for 
they  were  lulling  themselves  to  sleep  by  singing  in 
a    high,    monotonous    strain     that    drowned    every 


The  House  of  Bondage  227 

other  noise.  After  the  little  girl  was  quieted,  they 
still  droned  on,  and,  when  they  were  at  last  silent, 
there  sounded  the  notes  of  swarms  of  mosquitoes 
that  tortured  Miles,  for  all  he  was  so  tired,  into 
semi-wakefulness. 

A  snatch  of  feverish  slumber  once  and  again, 
and  then,  of  a  sudden,  he  was  aware  of  the  round 
moon  peering  in  at  him  through  the  smoke-hole. 
That  same  light  would  now  be  whitening  the  quiet 
fields  of  Plymouth,  and  slipping  through  the  little 
windows  across  the  clean  floor  of  Master  Hopkins's 
living  room  ;  Miles  remembered  just  how  the  patch 
of  light  rested  on  the  wall  of  his  own  chamber. 

He  sat  up  on  his  comfortless  bed  and  hid  his 
face  against  his  knee.  "  I  wish  I  hadn't  run  away ; 
I  wish  I  were  home — were  home,"  he  groaned  aloud. 
But,  save  for  the  heavy  snoring  of  the  Chief  of 
Manomet   and   his  warriors,  he  got  no  answer. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

HOW    THEY    KEPT    THE    SABBATH 

A  LITTLE  daylight  works  a  mighty  change 
in  the  look  of  things.  When  in  the  morn- 
ing Miles  rose  at  length  from  the  stupor  of 
sleep  into  which  he  had  fallen,  the  sky  was  clouded 
filmily  to  westward,  but  in  the  east,  above  the  pines, 
hung  a  yellow  sun.  The  river  that  curved  through 
the  meadow  was  half  bright  with  the  stroke  of  the 
sun,  and,  where  the  trees  of  the  opposite  bank  grew 
low,  half  a  lucid  green  ;  the  strip  of  sandy  beach 
shone  white,  and  the  coarse  herbage  of  the  level 
space  all  was  gleaming. 

Miles  looked  forth  from  the  doorway  of  Chief 
Canacum's  wigwam,  and,  sniffing  the  breeze  with  the 
tang  of  brine  in  it,  decided  that,  after  all,  Manomet 
might  prove  a  pleasant  place  in  which  to  spend  a 
day.  He  said  as  much  to  Dolly,  but  she  held  her 
poppet  closer  and  shook  her  head.  "  There  were 
fleas  in  that  bed,"  she  answered  sorrowfully.  "  Let's 
go  home  now,  Miles." 

An  easy  thing  to  say,  but  to  do  it  would  have 
puzzled  an  older  head  than  Miles's,  for  not  only 

228 


How  they  kept  the  Sabbath  229 

did  leagues  of  forest  stretch  between  him  and  the 
English  settlement,  but,  even  had  he  known  the 
direct  road  to  Plymouth,  there  was  no  chance  to 
follow  it,  since,  wherever  he  turned,  the  watchful 
eyes  of  the  savages  were  upon  him. 

Now  the  first  novelty  had  worn  off,  the  warriors 
limited  themselves  to  staring  at  their  visitors  as  they 
sauntered  through  the  camp,  but  the  squaws  and 
children  still  wished  to  press  close,  and  feel  their 
clothes  and  touch  their  hands.  However,  no  one 
meant  to  harm  him,  Miles  decided,  though  he  only 
half  realized  how  awe  of  their  white  faces  and  strange 
garments  and  of  their  great,  ugly  dog  was  protect- 
ing him  and  his  sister ;  and,  having  once  concluded 
he  was  to  be  left  unhurt,  he  took  pleasure  in  being 
a  centre  of  interest ;  it  was  his  first  experience  of 
this  sort  in  all  his  much-snubbed  life. 

So,  though  Dolly  would  scarce  look  on  the  dark 
people  about  them,  Miles  sought  presently  to  talk 
to  them,  just  as  he  tried  to  talk  to  the  Indians  who 
came  to  Plymouth.  So  well  did  he  impress  it  upon 
them  that  he  wanted  his  breakfast,  that  one  of  the 
squaws,  who  had  bright  eyes,  though  her  face  was 
very  dirty,  led  the  children  into  her  wigwam,  where 
she  brought  them  food,  —  roasted  crab  fish  and 
bread.  Miles  thanked  her  and  ate,  and  bade  Trug 
and  Dolly  eat  too,  while  the  little  Indians  and  the 
squaws,  squatting   in   the  sand  about   the  wigwam 


230  Soldier  Rigdale 

door,  watched  as  if  they  had  never  before  seen  two 
hungry  children. 

Presently,  as  he  wished  to  divide  a  morsel  with 
Dolly,  Miles  drew  out  his  whittle,  whereat  the  on- 
lookers crowded  closer  to  gaze.  Miles  showed  them 
his  knife,  though  he  took  care  not  to  let  it  go  out 
of  his  hands,  and  he  exhibited  the  other  treasures 
he  carried  in  his  breeches  pockets,  —  several  nails, 
a  button  or  two,  some  beads,  and  an  English  farth- 
ing piece.  Indians  always  looked  for  presents,  he 
knew,  so,  before  he  went  out  of  the  wigwam,  he  gave 
a  button  to  the  squaw  who  had  fed  him. 

With  his  Indian  followers  eying  him  the  more 
admiringly,  he  now  went  journeying  through  the 
warm  sand,  past  the  dingy  bark  houses,  to  the  far- 
ther verge  of  the  camp,  where,  beyond  a  lusty  patch 
of  rank  weeds,  the  corn-field  of  the  savages  shim- 
mered in  the  heat.  The  tillage  of  the  Indians 
seemed  to  him  of  an  untidy  sort ;  they  had  cleared 
away  the  trees  with  fire,  never  troubling  to  dig  up 
the  roots,  so  blackened  stumps  dotted  the  field,  and 
here  and  there  lay  the  greater  bulk  of  a  charred  and 
fallen  trunk.  In  between,  the  green  corn  straggled 
up,  and  several  squaws  were  tending  it  with  hoes 
made  of  great  clam-shells.  They  cast  aside  their 
tools  to  stare  on  Miles  and  Dolly,  but  Miles  stared 
in  return  only  a  short  space  ;  he  had  seen  corn-fields 
before. 


How  they  kept  the  Sabbath  231 

"  Only  to  think,  Dolly,"  he  burst  out,  as  he 
turned  his  back  on  the  hoers,  "  there's  no  one  to 
bid  me  weed  or  fetch  water  or  aught  else  that  dis- 
pleases me.  After  all,  'tis  a  merry  life  the  Indians 
lead  ;   I'm  willing  to  dwell  here  with  them." 

"/  do  not  wish  to  be  a  dirty  Indian,"  Dolly  an- 
swered decidedly,  but  in  a  whisper,  as  if  she  thought 
these  attentive  people  must  be  able  to  understand 
her  words.  "  Do  you  not  think  the  men  from 
Plymouth  will  come  to  seek  us  soon  and  take  us 
home  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  want  them  to  come,"  Miles  replied 
calmly.  "  Maybe  they  would  hang  me  for  that 
Ned  fought  in  the  duel,  and  surely  they  would  beat 
me  for  running  away.  I  shall  have  to  stay  here 
always,"  he  added  cheerfully. 

At  this  Dolly's  lips  quivered,  but  Miles,  intent 
now  on  an  Indian  lad  with  a  little  bow  in  his  hand, 
who  had  just  come  near,  gave  his  sister  no  heed. 
"  I'm  minded  to  ask  that  boy  to  let  me  play  with 
his  bow,"  he  spoke  out,  as  they  arrived  once  more 
within  the  lee  of  Chief  Canacum's  wigwam.  "  You 
sit  here,  and  Trug  shall  watch  you." 

A  protest  or  two  from  Dolly,  after  the  unreason- 
able fashion  of  women-folk,  but  Miles,  leaving  her 
seated  on  the  sand,  walked  away  to  the  coppery  lad 
he  had  singled  out.  For  a  time  the  two  boys  stared 
at  each  other  gravely,  then  Miles,  smiling  affably, 


232  Soldier  Rigdale 

touched  the  bow,  saying,  "  Cossaquot  ?  Nenmia," 
till  presently  the  other  yielded  it  into  his  hands. 

Then  they  strolled  away,  with  several  other  beady- 
eyed  youngsters,  into  the  weeds  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  camp,  where  Miles  tried  his  skill  at  shooting. 
Though  in  England  he  had  often  handled  a  bow, 
here  the  best  showing  he  could  make  set  the  little 
Indians  laughing ;  and  when  the  owner  of  the  bow, 
taking  it  from  him,  shot  an  arrow  and  fetched  down 
a  pine  cone  from  a  tree  many  feet  distant,  Miles  un- 
derstood their  merriment  at  his  awkwardness. 

But  then  he  stepped  up  to  a  young  sumach,  and, 
pulling  out  his  whittle,  hacked  off  a  small  branch  in 
a  manner  to  make  his  new  friends  marvel ;  so,  each 
party  respectful  of  the  other's  arts,  they  were  speed- 
ily on  a  sound  enough  footing  to  race  away  together 
to  the  river  bank. 

On  the  shore,  half  in  water  and  half  on  land,  lay 
three  Indian  boats,  light,  tricky  things,  all  built  of 
birch  bark.  Miles  had  never  seen  such  craft,  so  he 
set  to  examining  them,  but  his  new  comrades  splashed 
into  the  water.  On  the  sunny  beach  it  was  hot,  but 
across  the  stream,  whither  they  swam,  the  trees  that 
pressed  close  to  the  margin  darkened  the  shallows 
with  a  deep  green,  so  cool  and  tempting  that  Miles, 
dusty  with  travel,  longed  to  bathe  in  it  too. 

In  the  end  he  flung  off  his  clothes,  and  prepared 
to  join  in  the  splashing,  when  his  Indian  acquaint- 


How  they  kept  the  Sabbath  133 


ances  paddled  shoreward  to  study  his  garments. 
Miles  suffered  the  youngster  who  had  lent  him  the 
bow  to  try  on  his  shoes,  whereat  all  grew  so  clamo- 
rous he  feared  a  little  lest  his  wardrobe  disappear 
among  them,  for  he  remembered  how  Thievish  Har- 
bor took  its  first  name  from  the  pilfering  habits  of 
the  Indians.  Fortunately  Trug,  forsaking  Dolly, 
arrived  just  then,  and  when  he  stretched  his  great 
bulk  on  his  master's  clothes,  none  cared  to  disturb 
them. 

With  his  mind  set  at  rest,  Miles  plunged  into  the 
tepid  water,  where  he  frolicked  about  with  his  new 
comrades,  who  swam  like  dogs,  paw  over  paw,  and 
dived  in  a  way  that  bewildered  him.  But  speedily 
he  was  doing  his  share  in  the  ducking  and  splashing 
and  whooping,  till,  before  he  knew  it,  the  afternoon 
was  half  spent,  and  his  shoulders  smarted  with  the 
burning  of  the  sun. 

The  little  Indians  followed  him,  when  he  spat- 
tered out  of  the  river,  and,  with  no  more  than  a 
shaking  of  their  ears,  like  puppies,  were  ready  to  run 
about,  but  Miles,  as  a  penalty  of  civilization,  had  to 
stay  to  drag  on  his  clothes.  He  felt  chilly  now,  he 
found,  and  hungry  too,  and  he  guessed  he  and  Trug 
were  best  go  seek  Dolly. 

But  when  he  came  into  the  lee  of  Chief  Canacum's 
wigwam,  he  saw  there  just  scurried,  empty  sand,  so, 
with  a  big  fright  laying  hold  on  him,  he  ran  out  into 


234  Soldier  Rigdale 

the  straggling  street  and  called  his  sister's  name 
aloud.  Just  then  Trug's  bark  told  him  all  was 
well,  and,  hastening  after  the  dog,  he  found,  in  the 
shade  of  a  distant  wigwam,  a  squaw  weaving  a  mat 
of  flags,  some  children  sprawling,  and  Dolly  herself, 
who  was  eating  raspberries  from  a  birch  bark  basket. 
"  Why  did  you  run  away  and  frighten  me  ?  "  Miles 
demanded  crossly,  as  he  flung  himself  on  the  ground 
beside  her. 

"  I  may  go  away  and  make  friends  as  well  as 
thou,"  Dolly  answered  loftily.  "  But  you  shall 
have  some  of  my  berries,  Miles.  They  fetched  me 
them,  and  I  can  eat  these  —  "  her  voice  sank  —  "  be- 
cause they  must  be  clean.  But  their  other  victuals 
are  not,  I  know.  I  watched,  and  the  women  do 
never  wash  their  kettles." 

Miles  had  no  such  scruples  of  cleanliness,  so 
when,  some  two  hours  later,  he  scented  the  odor 
of  cooking,  he  rose  eagerly  and,  thinking  on  sup- 
per, sought  Canacum's  wigwam.  There  were  four 
dark  boats  upon  the  white  beach  now,  he  saw,  so 
he  judged  that  a  fishing  party  had  come  in. 

When  he  passed  through  the  low  door  into  the 
wigwam,  he  found  a  fire  alight  and  a  great  pot  of 
clay  hung  on  small  sticks  that  were  laid  over  it. 
Into  the  pot  the  drudging  squaws  were  putting  fresh 
fish,  and  acorns,  and  the  meat  of  squirrels,  and 
kernels  of  corn,  and  whatever   else    they   had  of 


How  they  kept  the  Sabbath  235 

edibles,  —  "a  loathsome  mash,"  Dolly  whispered 
Miles,  but  he  was  so  hungry  that  it  did  not  take 
away  his  appetite. 

So  soon  as  the  broth  was  done,  near  half  the  vil- 
lage squatted  round  the  pot,  the  men  in  an  inner 
circle,  while  on  the  outskirts,  eager  for  any  morsel 
their  masters  might  fling  to  them,  waited  the  poor 
squaws.  But  Dolly,  because  she  was  a  little  white 
squaw,  was  suffered  to  sit  down  with  her  brother  be- 
side the  old  Chief,  who  scooped  up  pieces  of  the  fish 
and  hot  broth  in  a  wooden  bowl  and  gave  it  to  Miles. 

Dolly  looked  askance  at  the  food,  but  Miles  and 
Trug  ate  ravenously ;  neither  his  queer  table  mates 
nor  their  queer  table  manners  troubled  the  boy, 
since  he  himself  was  licking  his  fingers  and  wiping 
them  on  Trug's  fur  contentedly.  "  I  like  to  eat 
with  my  fingers,"  he  chattered  to  his  venerable 
host.  "  At  home  they  make  me  to  eat  tidily  with 
a  napkin,  but  I  like  it  better  thus." 

But,  even  at  his  hungriest,  he  could  not  match 
the  Indians  in  trencher  work ;  for,  long  after  Miles 
had  done  eating  and  lain  back  against  Trug,  the 
savages  still  champed  on,  till  nothing  but  scattered 
bones  was  left  of  the  fare.  By  then  the  sun  was 
quite  down,  so  the  lodge  was  black,  save  for  the 
flashes  of  the  sinking  fire.  Out-of-doors  an  owl 
hooted,  and  speedily  the  Indian  guests  withdrew  to 
their  own  lodges,  and  the  Chief's  household  went 


236  Soldier  Rigdale 

to  their  common  bed.  Little  comfort  did  Miles 
and  his  two  companions  find  there,  for  the  singing 
Indians  and  the  mosquitoes  pestered  them  as  on 
the  preceding  night. 

"I'll  not  endure  this  a  third  time,"  Miles  fretted, 
when  he  awoke  in  the  chilly  morning.  "  Look 
you,  Dolly,  why  should  I  not  build  us  a  little  wig- 
wam ?  I  make  no  doubt  they'll  suffer  us  go  sleep 
there  by  ourselves." 

Full  of  this  new  plan,  he  bustled  forth  from  the 
wigwam,  but  outside  the  doorway  halted  in  surprise. 
He  could  see  no  river  nor  more  than  the  tips  of  the 
pines  for  a  thick  white  fog  that  drifted  through 
the  village  and  struck  rawly  to  his  very  marrow. 
For  a  moment  he  had  a  mind  to  slip  back  to 
Dolly  in  the  close  wigwam,  but,  spying  his  Indian 
allies,  he  kept  to  his  first  manly  resolve  and  began 
chatting  to  them  of  his  intentions.  Though  they 
could  understand  nothing  of  his  talk,  they  came  with 
him  readily,  through  the  clammy  fog,  out  beyond 
the  camp,  where  the  sand,  sloping  up  to  the  pine 
ridge,  offered,  as  Miles  remembered,  a  good  location 
for  a  wigwam. 

The  Indian  houses,  so  far  as  he  could  judge,  were 
built  by  bending  over  young  saplings  and  securing 
both  ends  in  the  ground,  then  covering  the  frame 
with  mats  or  great  pieces  of  bark.  Miles  decided 
that  poles,  bound  together  at  the  top,  would  serve 


■I 


How  they  kept  the  Sabbath  237 

him  as  well,  so  he  went  to  cut  them  in  a  growth  of 
young  oaks  at  some  distance  from  the  camp.  The 
trees,  all  laden  with  fog  moisture,  drenched  him  as 
he  worked,  and  the  task  took  him  a  long  time  with 
his  small  whittle,  —  would  have  taken  him  longer, 
had  not  the  Indian  boys  helped  him  to  break  the 
poles. 

They  were  all  intent  on  his  proceedings,  and, 
when  he  returned  to  the  site  he  had  chosen,  settled 
themselves  in  the  sand  to  watch  him,  an  action 
which  pleased  him  little.  For,  when  he  stuck  his 
poles  into  the  sand,  at  the  circumference  of  a  rough 
circle,  and  bent  them  all  together  at  the  top,  the 
ends  that  were  thrust  into  the  sand  would  fly  up, 
and  'twas  annoying  to  have  other  people  see  his 
failure.  It  took  him  some  minutes  to  make  all 
secure,  and  by  then  he  was  so  breathless  and  tired 
that  he  was  glad  to  run  tell  Dolly  of  his  progress, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  rest  a  bit. 

Spite  of  the  fog,  he  found  his  sister  had  come  out 
from  the  choking  atmosphere  of  the  wigwam.  She 
was  sitting  a  little  up  the  pine  ridge,  behind  the 
lodges,  on  a  fallen  tree  trunk  that  was  all  a-drip  ; 
the  sand,  too,  Miles  noted,  when  he  lay  down  at  her 
feet,  was  damp  and  sticky  to  the  touch. 

"  They  have  left  us  alone,  haven't  they,  Dolly  ? " 
he  said  in  some  surprise,  as  he  glanced  about  him 
and  saw  no  Indians  near.     "  But  Trug,  he  has  not 


238  Soldier  Rigdale 

followed ;  very  like  they  think  we'll  not  run  away 
and  leave  him  behind."  Then  he  perceived  that 
his  sister's  arms  were  empty.  "  Where's  the  old 
red  poppet  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  My  poppet  Priscilla,"  Dolly  replied  seriously. 
"  I  did  put  her  away  carefully.  For  'tis  the  Sab- 
bath to-day,  Miles." 

"  Is  it  ?  "  the  boy  questioned,  with  some  misgiv- 
ings. "  I'd  lost  count  of  the  days.  Why,  I  have 
been  cutting  poles  and  begun  my  wigwam  —  " 

"  Then  you  are  a  Sabbath-breaker,"  Dolly  said 
relentlessly.  "  If  you  be  so  wicked,  I  doubt  if  ever 
God  let  us  go  back  to  Plymouth.  And  I've  been 
praying  Him  earnestly.  Miles,  have  you  said  your 
prayers  o'  nights  ?  " 

"  N —  no,"  the  boy  faltered,  "  last  night  I  forgot 
'em,  and  night  before  I  was  weary." 

"  Come,  we'll  say  them  now,"  Dolly  announced, 
and  fell  on  her  knees  in  the  wet  sand. 

Miles  obediently  knelt  beside  her;  his  father 
had  looked  somewhat  askance  at  this  practice,  but 
Miles's  mother  had  first  taught  the  children  to  say 
their  evening  prayer  on  their  knees,  and,  for  her 
sake,  the  boy  held  obstinately  to  that  usage. 

The  thought  of  her  came  clearly  to  him  now,  and 
how  she  had  bidden  him  be  good  to  Dolly,  so,  when 
he  had  prayed  "  Our  Father,"  he  added  an  extem- 
poraneous appeal,  that  the  English  folk  might  soon 


How  they  kept  the  Sabbath  239 

come  in  search  of  them.  "  Not  for  my  sake,  O 
Lord,"  he  explained  carefully,  "  but  Thou  knowest 
Dolly  is  but  a  wench  and  were  better  at  Plymouth, 
perhaps.  And,  O  Lord,  I'd  near  be  willing  to  go 
thither  myself,  if  Thou  wouldst  put  it  in  their 
minds  not  to  flog  me." 

Indeed,  as  he  prayed,  his  heart  grew  very  tender 
toward  the  tiny  settlement ;  he  would  have  liked 
well  to  open  his  eyes  and  see  the  sandy  street  of 
the  little  village  stretching  away  up  the  hillside,  the 
ordered  cottages,  the  grave  men  about  their  tasks, 
even  Master  Hopkins  —  perhaps. 

Rather  subdued,  he  set  himself  by  Dolly  on  the 
wet  log.  "  Now  I'll  tell  you  somewhat  out  of  the 
Bible,  since  there  is  no  one  to  preach  us  a  dis- 
course," he  said,  and  set  forth  to  her  what  he  re- 
membered of  the  last  portion  of  the  Scriptures 
which  Master  Hopkins  had  made  him  read.  It 
was  all  about  how  Moses  let  loose  the  plagues  upon 
the  wicked  king  of  Egypt,  flies  and  boils  and  frogs, 
—  Miles  was  not  quite  sure  of  the  order  of  events, 
but  he  detailed  them  with  much  gusto. 

"  I  do  not  think  there  is  a  great  deal  of  doctrine 
therein,"  Dolly  commented,  with  a  mournful  shake 
of  the  head.  "Elder  Brewster,  he  did  not  discourse 
thus  ;  and  Mistress  Brewster  and  Priscilla  and  the 
boys  will  have  bread  for  dinner  to-day,  and  maybe 
butter,  and  lobster,  and,  if  I  were  home,  I  should 


240  Soldier  Rigdale 

sleep  in  my  own  bed  with  Priscilla,  and  put  on  a 
clean  gown  in  the  morning.  I  wish  I  were  home 
now." 

Miles  squeezed  Dolly's  fingers,  and  sat  staring 
away  from  her  into  the  fleecy  fog  that  still  shivered 
through  the  camp.  So  intent  was  he  on  gulping 
down  his  home-sickness  that  he  started  in  surprise 
when  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder,  and  he  looked 
up  into  the  face  of  one  of  Canacum's  warriors. 

He  was  to  come  to  the  Chief's  wigwam,  he  inter- 
preted the  Indian's  signs,  so  he  rose  and,  leading 
Dolly,  followed  his  guide  down  the  sandy  slope. 
"  Maybe  'tis  that  they  have  meetings  too  on  the 
Sabbath,"  Dolly  whispered  him. 

Inside  the  lodge,  where  a  fire  smoked,  many 
warriors  were  gathered,  true  enough,  but  no  one 
preached  to  them.  Instead  all  puffed  at  their 
pipes  and,  with  long  pauses,  spoke  together,  till 
Miles,  sitting  with  Dolly  by  the  Chief,  grew  weary. 
Understanding  nothing  of  their  talk,  he  thought  on 
his  new  wigwam  and  scarcely  heeded  them,  till  a 
warrior,  whom  he  had  a  vague  idea  he  had  not  seen 
before  about  the  camp,  rose  up  and,  coming  to  him, 
lifted  him  to  his  feet. 

"  What  will  you  do  ?  "  Miles  cried,  with  a  quick 
pang  of  fright  as  he  found  his  arm  fast  in  the  other's 
grip.  "  Are  we  to  go  with  you  ?  "  And  then,  with 
a  sudden,  overwhelming  hope,  "  To  Patuxet  ?  " 


How  they  kept  the  Sabbath  241 

"  Nauset,"  grunted  the  imperturbable  Chief. 

"They  set  upon  the  English  there!"  gasped 
Miles.     "  I  will  not  go,  I  will  not !  " 

After  that,  all  passed  so  quickly  he  remembered 
nothing  clearly,  just  the  confusion  of  bronzed  fig- 
ures in  the  smoky  lodge,  the  choking  odor  of  the 
fire,  the  sight  of  Dolly's  blanched  face,  as  one  of 
the  Indians  drew  her  back  from  him.  He  had  a 
scattered  remembrance  of  crying  out  that  they 
should  not  dare  take  his  sister  from  him,  Captain 
Standish  would  punish  them  for  it ;  and  then  of 
a  helpless,  childish  struggle,  wherein  he  kicked 
and  struck  unavailingly  at  the  savage  who  held 
him. 

The  chill  fog  stung  against  his  face,  as  he  was 
dragged  forth  from  the  wigwam.  He  seemed  to 
come  to  his  senses  again,  and,  ceasing  to  struggle, 
called  over  his  shoulder  to  Dolly  not  to  be  afraid, 
no  one  would  dare  hurt  her.  Something  pressed 
feebly  against  his  knees,  and  he  looked  down  at 
Trug,  with  a  broken  thong  hanging  at  his  neck 
and  his  head  bleeding.  He  caught  the  old  dog  by 
the  collar.  "  Go  in  unto  Dolly,  sirrah,"  he  bade 
in  his  sternest  voice.  "And  guard  her,  guard 
her!" 

He  had  a  last  glimpse  of  his  sister,  crouching  in 
the  door  of  the  wigwam,  with  her  arms  clasped 
close  about  the  mastiff's  neck  and   her  frightened 


242  Soldier  Rigdale 

eyes  fixed  on  him.  Then  the  grasp  on  his  wrist 
tightened,  and  stumblingly  he  followed  along  with 
his  new  captors,  past  the  dripping  wigwams  with 
their  staring  people,  past  his  own  unfinished  lodge, 
and  into  the  chill  silence  of  the  moist  woods. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 


AT    NAUSET    VILLAGE 


EASTWARD  of  Nauset,  unchecked  by  head- 
lands, as  was  Plymouth  Harbor,  but  sweep- 
ing away  into  the  very  sky  line,  lay  the 
ocean.  The  tide  was  now  rolling  in  ;  far  out  at  sea 
the  water  all  was  ridged,  and,  as  the  waves  pressed 
shoreward,  their  crests,  heaving  up,  burst  into  white 
foam.  With  each  inward  swell  the  water  crept 
nearer,  till  now  it  reached  the  bare  rock  where  Miles 
Rigdale,  his  knees  level  with  his  chin  and  his  arms 
cast  round  them,  was  perched. 

Overhead,  Miles  knew  the  sky  was  bright,  and 
the  dazzle  of  the  water  was  ever  present  to  his  eyes. 
He  strove  to  think  on  naught  but  the  barren  glare 
before  him,  yet  beneath,  in  his  heart,  he  was  con- 
scious all  the  time  of  an  aching  weight  of  misery 
and  sick  fear.  For  this  was  Nauset ;  he  had  but  to 
turn  his  head,  and,  far  up  the  sandy  beach,  where 
the  storm-swept  pines  began,  he  could  see  the 
cluster  of  wigwams,  and,  nearer,  squatting  upon  the 
shore,  the  stolid  Indian  folk  who  had  dogged  him 
thither. 

*43 


244  Soldier  Rigdale 

Only  that  morning  he  had  reached  Nauset. 
There  had  been  more  than  four  and  twenty  hours 
of  journeying,  through  unknown  villages,  and  by 
sea  in  a  frail  bark  canoe,  the  pitching  of  which, 
under  the  stroke  of  the  waves,  had  frightened  him 
sorely.  All,  indeed,  had  been  fright  and  confusion 
and  the  wearying  effort  to  hide  his  terror.  For  the 
Indians  of  Manomet  doubtless  would  beat  Trug 
over  the  head  again  till  he  was  dead,  and  they  would 
send  Dolly  far  away,  as  they  had  sent  him,  perhaps 
do  worse.  Miles  buried  his  face  against  his  knees, 
and  bit  his  lips  hard. 

Of  a  sudden,  he  was  lifted  bodily  from  the  rock 
where  he  sat.  The  white  water  eddied  all  round  it, 
he  noted,  and  the  warrior  who  held  him  had  stepped 
through  it  to  fetch  him  ashore.  For  a  moment 
after  he  was  set  upon  his  feet,  he  stood  staring  out 
upon  the  dazzling  sea,  then  turned  and  passed 
slowly  up  the  sand,  through  a  patch  of  sparse  beach 
grass,  to  the  village. 

Slowly  though  he  loitered,  he  came  at  last  to  the 
sunny  cluster  of  wigwams  ;  in  their  scant  shadow  the 
men  —  the  warriors  of  Nauset,  and  those  who  had 
fetched  Miles  hither  —  lay  smoking,  and,  liking 
their  surly  looks  little,  he  stepped  presently  into  the 
Chief's  great  wigwam,  where  the  squaws  were  cooking. 

He  was  hungry,  for  he  had  not  eaten  since  last 
evening,    so    he    stood    waiting    and    watching   the 


At  Nauset  Village  245 

women,  though  he  no  longer  sought  to  talk  to 
them.  For  they  did  not  show  a  friendly  curiosity, 
such  as  the  squaws  at  Manomet  had  shown,  but 
rather  scowled  upon  him,  as  if  they  already  knew 
enough  of  white  folk.  It  was  from  this  place  that 
the  trader  Hunt,  who  stole  Squanto,  had  kidnapped 
seven  Indians,  and  it  was  here — Miles  remem- 
bered only  too  clearly  every  scrap  of  his  elders' 
tales  —  that  only  the  last  summer,  in  revenge  for 
Hunt's  dealings,  three  Englishmen  trading  thither 
had  been  slain. 

So  the  heart  within  him  was  heavy  indeed,  when 
at  length  he  set  himself  down  amongst  the  warriors 
at  the  noon  meal.  His  place  was  next  the  chief  of 
the  village,  whom  men  called  Aspinet,  just  as  it 
had  been  at  every  village  where  he  had  sat  to  eat, 
but  this  chieftain  was  not  friendly,  as  the  others 
had  seemed.  What  few  gutturals  he  uttered  were 
directed  to  his  warriors,  not  to  Miles,  nor  did  he 
offer  to  give  the  boy  food. 

Of  necessity,  Miles  imitated  the  others  by  thrust- 
ing his  hands  into  the  kettle  and  laying  hold  on  the 
great  claw  of  a  lobster ;  it  was  so  hot  it  burned  his 
fingers  sharply,  but,  mindful  that  he  was  watched, 
he  held  it  fast  till  he  could  lay  it  on  the  trampled 
sand  at  his  side.  His  fingers  smarted,  and  he 
dared  not  raise  his  eyes  from  the  lobster,  lest  the 
tears  of  pain  that  were  gathering  in  them  be  seen. 


246  Soldier  Rigdale 

Fumblingly  he  drew  forth  his  whittle  and  was  mak- 
ing a  clumsy  effort  to  dig  the  meat  from  the  shell, 
when  a  dusky  hand  suddenly  closed  on  his  wrist, 
and  the  whittle  was  wrenched  from  his  grasp. 

For  one  nightmare-like  instant  the  world  seemed 
struck  from  under  him  ;  then  Miles  was  aware  of 
the  reality  of  the  smoky  walls  of  the  wigwam  and 
of  those  grim-faced  savages  who  sat  round  him. 
He  stood  up  slowly,  with  his  knees  a-tremble,  but 
he  thrust  out  his  hand  bravely,  and,  in  a  stout  voice, 
spoke  to  Chief  Aspinet :  "  That  whittle  is  mine. 
Give  it  back  to  me." 

A  moment  he  stood  fronting  the  Chief  and  his 
warriors,  then,  with  a  sudden  feeling  that  for  sheer 
alarm  he  would  presently  burst  out  crying,  he  turned 
and  walked  slowly  from  the  circle  of  the  feasters. 
"  I  shall  not  eat  of  your  food  nor  come  into  your 
house  till  you  give  back  my  whittle,"  he  flung  over 
his  shoulder  in  a  quavering  voice. 

With  that  he  passed  out  at  the  doorway  and  set 
himself  down  cross-legged  in  the  deep  sand  in  the 
lee  of  the  wigwam.  The  sun  of  early  afternoon 
poured  scorchingly  upon  him,  and  the  sand,  as  he 
sifted  it  between  his  fingers,  was  warm.  Out  above 
the  ocean  he  could  see  a  great  white  gull  that  flashed 
in  the  strong  light. 

A  little  shadow  from  the  wigwam  fell  upon  him, 
and  bit  by  bit  broadened,  while  he  stupidly  watched 


At  Nauset  Village  247 

the  strip  of  dark  advance  across  the  white  sand.  It 
must  be  mid-afternoon,  he  reasoned  out,  when  the 
warriors,  crammed  with  food,  sauntered  from  the 
wigwam,  and  several  came  leisurely  to  squat  in 
the  shade  close  by  him. 

Among  them  was  Aspinet  himself,  Miles's  whittle 
thrust  defiantly  in  his  leathern  girdle,  and  the  sight 
of  that  braced  the  boy's  resolution  in  soldierly  fash- 
ion ;  he  must  not  seem  afraid  or  willing  to  bear  an 
affront  from  a  savage,  he  knew.  So,  with  a  steady 
face,  he  addressed  the  Chief  again,  seeking  this  time 
to  find  the  Indian  words:  "When  your  people  come 
to  us  at  Patuxet  we  do  not  rob  them.  And  you 
were  best  not  rob  me,  else  Captain  Standish  will 
burn  your  wigwams." 

For  an  instant  the  Chief  puffed  slowly  at  his 
tobacco  pipe,  and  impassively  eyed  Miles's  face ; 
then  he  spoke,  with  some  broken  words  of  English 
and  his  native  words  so  slowly  uttered  that  Miles 
could  half  comprehend  the  import  of  his  speech : 
"We  do  not  fear  the  coat-men.  Thus  did  we  to 
them.  There  was  a  ship  broken  by  a  storm.  They 
saved  most  of  their  goods  and  hid  it  in  the  ground. 
We  made  them  tell  us  where  it  was.  Then  we 
made  them  our  servants.  They  wept  much  when 
we  parted  them.  We  gave  them  such  meat  as  our 
dogs  eat.  We  took  away  their  clothes.  They  lived 
but  a  little  while." 


248  Soldier  Rigdale 

Miles's  eyes  were  wide  and  his  lips  parted  with 
frank  horror ;  only  for  a  moment,  then  he  recalled 
the  hint  of  such  a  happening  that  had  drifted  to 
Plymouth,  and  the  very  reiteration  of  the  story 
made  it  a  little  less  shocking.  "  That  was  a  French 
ship,  and  they  are  a  different  race  from  us,"  he  said 
slowly.  "An  Englishman  would  not  'a'  wept  for 
you.  And  I  shall  not."  He  drove  his  hands  hard 
into  the  sand  and  blinked  fast ;  the  rough  dirt  hurt 
his  burnt  fingers,  and  he  did  not  doubt  the  English 
folk,  even  the  Captain,  were  so  glad  to  be  rid  of 
him  that  they  would  leave  him  there  forever,  to 
the  mercies  of  Chief  Aspinet. 

Squalid  though  the  Indian  wigwams  were,  he  was 
faintly  glad  when  the  shadows  had  so  lengthened 
on  the  land  and  so  darkened  the  sky  and  sea  that 
it  was  time  to  go  to  rest,  for  at  least  the  blackness 
would  screen  his  face  from  the  peering  eyes  of  his 
captors.  It  was  to  Aspinet's  wigwam  they  led  him, 
but  the  courage  to  refuse  the  Chief's  dubious  hos- 
pitality no  longer  endured  in  Miles  ;  he  would  for- 
give their  taking  his  knife,  if  they  did  not  use  him 
as  they  had  used  the  luckless  French  sailors. 

Obediently  he  snuggled  down  in  one  corner  of 
the  bed  that  ran  round  the  wigwam,  crowded  and 
comfortless  as  was  his  bed  at  Manomet,  but  here 
neither  Trug  nor  Dolly  lay  beside  him.  The 
sound  of  the  sea,  too,  was  strange ;  out-of-doors  he 


At  Nauset  Village  249 

could  hear  it,  —  the  slow  crash  of  the  incoming  tide 
that  grew  fainter  and  fainter. 

Dolly  and  Trug,  taken  from  him,  he  knew  not 
to  what,  and  the  safe  little  town  of  Plymouth 
whence  he  had  fled, — all  were  present  to  him.  He 
thought  that  he  and  Dolly,  with  the  old  dog  beside 
them,  were  trudging  up  the  path  from  the  landing, 
only  there  were  trees  all  along  the  path,  like  the 
limes  along  the  church  lane  at  home  in  England, 
and  the  houses  were  not  log  cabins,  but  English 
cottages.  He  knocked  at  the  door  of  Stephen 
Hopkins's  house,  and  at  the  same  time  it  was  the 
English  farmhouse  where  his  father  had  dwelt,  and, 
when  they  opened  the  door  to  him,  it  was  his 
mother  who,  coming  across  the  hall,  took  him  in 
her  arms  and  drew  him  in. 

The  blackness  of  the  wigwam  and  the  heavy 
breathing  of  the  savages  came  once  more  to  his 
consciousness.  He  dragged  himself  wearily  up  on 
one  elbow.  Through  the  opening  in  the  side  of  the 
wigwam  he  saw  the  sky  quite  dark,  and  he  heard 
the  receding  swash  of  the  ebbing  tide.  Yonder 
was  the  ocean,  and  a  few  miles  westward  lay  Cape 
Cod  Bay,  and  across  it  snug  Plymouth.  If  he  only 
walked  along  the  shore,  followed  the  coast  line,  he 
would  come  home. 

There  was  no  plan,  scarce  any  hope  in  him,  only 
he  knew  the  English  had   forgotten    him,  and  he 


250  Soldier  Rigdale 

could  not  endure  it  longer  with  a  stolid  face  among 
the  Indians.  Almost  ere  he  thought  it  out,  yet  with 
instinctive  precaution,  he  slipped  off  the  bed,  and, 
holding  his  breath,  crouched  listening  on  the  floor. 

Slowly  and  carefully,  with  the  trodden  dirt  firm 
beneath  his  hands,  he  writhed  his  way  to  the  door- 
opening.  The  morning  air  struck  coldly  on  his 
cheeks,  so  that  for  an  instant  he  shrank  back,  but 
there  was  in  it  something  free  that  emboldened  him 
to  press  on. 

Out  through  the  door  into  the  chilly  morning, 
which  to  his  more  accustomed  eyes  seemed  .so  pale, 
he  felt  detection  was  certain.  But  no  cry  alarmed 
him,  no  motion  betrayed  him.  The  soft  sand  dead- 
ened every  sound,  as  he  crept  through  it,  hands  and 
knees.  The  debris  of  twigs,  higher  up  at  the  verge 
of  the  pine  woods,  pressed  cruelly  against  his  palms, 
but,  for  all  the  pain,  he  still  crawled  on,  till  dark- 
ness thickened  about  him,  and  above  him  the  pine 
branches  stirred. 

Springing  to  his  feet,  Miles  ran  forward,  fast  as 
two  frightened  legs  could  bear  him.  Brambles  that 
plucked  at  his  tattered  sleeves  made  him  halt,  with 
heart  a-jump  ;  tougher  young  shoots  near  tripped 
him ;  but  pantingly  he  held  on  his  way.  Through 
the  branches  he  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  dull 
sky  and  one  very  bright  star  that  he  judged  shone 
in  the  west,  so  he  headed  toward  it. 


At  Nauset  Village  251 

Little  by  little  the  star  faded  from  before  his  eyes, 
and  the  sky  lightened,  whereat  Miles  ran  the  faster. 
A  swamp,  thick  with  juniper,  barred  his  course,  and 
fearfully  he  turned  southward  to  pick  his  way  about 
it.  When  once  more  he  turned  westward,  the  sky 
was  pale  as  lead,  and  the  birds  were  beginning  to  sing. 
But  though  the  coming  of  dawn  might  well  alarm 
him,  he  did  not  heed  it  now,  as,  through  the  trees 
before  him,  he  caught  the  pounding  note  of  waves, 
and,  a  little  later,  broke  forth  upon  a  broad  expanse 
of  meadow,  beyond  which  rumbled  the  great  sea. 

Yonder,  very  far  to  west,  lay  Plymouth,  Miles 
told  himself,  and,  with  a  foolish  happiness  spring- 
ing in  his  heart,  he  stumbled  briskly  along  through 
the  sparse  growth  at  the  edge  of  the  wood.  The 
morning  light  now  was  sprinkling  the  sea  on  his 
right  hand,  and  the  sky  was  changing  from  lead- 
color  to  clear  blue.  Out  from  the  forest  a  brook, 
all  awake  with  the  dawning,  came  gurgling,  so  Miles 
stopped  to  drink,  and  tarried  to  empty  the  sand 
from  his  shoes ;  he  guessed  he  must  have  run 
leagues,  for  he  was  very  tired. 

But  up  he  got  and  tramped  on  pluckily  at  his 
stoutest  pace,  through  the  coarse  grass  of  a  great 
salt  marsh,  where  the  new-risen  sun  struck  hot 
upon  him.  At  the  verge  of  the  marsh  an  arm  of 
the  sea  reached  into  the  land,  so  Miles  had  no 
course  but  to  wade  in,  shoes  and  all.     The  water 


i$i  Soldier  Rigdale 

was  cold  as  the  sun  before  had  been  hot.  He 
clambered  forth  on  the  far  side  all  a-shiver  and,  with 
his  head  bent,  began  to  run  for  warmth's  sake,  across 
another  bit  of  marsh  and  up  a  little  wooded  slope  of 
sand.  Headlong  he  plunged  down  the  opposite  slope, 
and  there,  in  the  hollow,  by  a  brookside,  unmoved 
as  the  pine  trees  themselves,  stood  two  of  the  Nauset 
Indians. 

He  trudged  back  to  the  camp  with  them,  —  there 
was  no  other  way.  One  of  them,  when  they  came 
up  to  him,  as  he  stood  numb  with  the  surprise,  un- 
certain whether  to  run  or  front  them  boldly,  struck 
him  a  buffet  in  the  face,  but  the  other,  catching  his 
arm,  muttered  something  that  made  him  desist.  So 
Miles  stole  round  and  walked  beside  the  second  Ind- 
ian on  the  trip  back.  They  did  not  offer  to  carry 
him  nor  to  slacken  their  pace,  and  he  feared  to  vex 
them  with  lagging  behind.  His  shoes,  where  he 
had  waded  through  the  salt  water,  were  stiffening,  so 
they  hurt  his  feet  sorely ;  by  the  time  he  came  into 
the  camp  he  was  fairly  limping,  yet  that  was  but  a 
little  pain  beside  what  might  be  before  him. 

Yet  no  one  did  him  hurt.  A  throng  of  people 
gathered  scowlingly  about  him  and  talked  among 
themselves,  while  he  waited,  with  his  flesh  a-quiver, 
but  his  chin  thrust  bravely  upward.  But,  in  the 
end,  they  only  hustled  him  into  a  wigwam,  where 
they  left  him  with  two  squaws  who  were  pounding 


At  Nauset  Village  253 

corn.  Miles  flung  himself  upon  the  couch,  in  the 
farthest  corner,  and  hid  his  face  in  his  arras,  but 
rigidly  he  held  himself  from  crying.  The  stone 
pestles  that  ground  the  corn  went  thud,  thud,  till 
his  head  so  ached  it  seemed  as  if  they  beat  upon 
his  very  temples. 

He  had  come  to  count  the  rhythmic  strokes  in 
a  sort  of  stupor,  wherein  he  knew  only  that  the 
pestles  beat,  when  suddenly  they  ceased.  Out-of- 
doors  he  heard  a  whooping  and  a  scuffling  of 
many  naked  feet  in  the  sand.  He  pressed  himself 
closer  against  the  wall  of  the  wigwam  ;  they  were 
coming  to  deal  with  him  now.  He  shut  his  eyes 
tightly  and  buried  his  head  deeper  between  his 
arms. 

They  had  come  into  the  wigwam.  He  ought 
to  stand  up  and  show  them  he  was  not  afraid,  but 
he  could  not,  and,  when  some  one  grasped  him  by 
the  arm,  spite  of  himself,  he  cried  out  in  nervous 
terror. 

"  Me  friend.  You  not  know  Squanto  ?  "  grumbled 
a  voice  he  remembered. 

Miles  sprang  to  his  feet.  The  lodge  was  full 
of  savages,  Aspinet  and  a  score  of  other  hostile 
faces,  but  he  gave  them  no  heed,  for  over  him 
stood  his  old  Plymouth  acquaintance,  the  inter- 
preter Squanto.  With  a  great  cry  of  relief,  Miles 
flung  his  arms  about  him.     "  Oh,  Squanto,  take  me 


254  Soldier  Rigdale 

home,  quick,  quick  !  "  he  begged ;  and  in  the  next 
breath,  "  Where's  Dolly  ?     You  must  find  Dolly." 

The  little  squaw  and  the  puppy  dog  were  safe, 
Squanto  explained  leisurely  ;  the  Captain  and  his 
warriors  had  come  in  the  big  canoe  and  taken  them, 
and  now  they  waited  yonder  for  Miles  himself. 
"  I'll  go  to  him  straightway,"  cried  Miles,  with  a 
laugh  that  caught  in  his  throat. 

But,  like  it  or  no,  he  must  wait  yet  a  time,  for 
Chief  Aspinet  and  his  warriors  would  feast  Squanto 
and  the  Indians  who  came  with  him,  and  the  sav- 
ages ate  long  and  deliberately.  Miles,  unable  to 
swallow  a  morsel,  sat  between  his  friend  Squanto 
and  one  who  came  with  him  called  Iyanough,  the 
Sachem  of  Cummaquid,  a  young  Indian  with  so 
gentle  a  bearing  that  the  boy  felt  near  as  safe  with 
him  as  with  an  Englishman. 

He  could  not  help  a  little  movement  of  repul- 
sion, though,  as  they  rose  from  the  feast  at  last, 
when  Aspinet  came  up  to  him,  but  the  Chief  was 
in  a  humble  mood  now  and  merely  handed  back 
the  whittle,  which  Miles  clapped  promptly  into 
his  pocket.  Aspinet  would  have  put  round  his 
neck  a  chain  of  white  beads  too,  but  Miles  shook 
his  head  disapprovingly  ;  he  wanted  no  presents  of 
the  uncivil  Chief.  Yet  when  Squanto  said,  "  Take 
um,"   he  thought  well  to  obey  the  interpreter. 

They   came   forth   at   length   from   the   wigwam, 


"  Miles  made  out  the  figures  of  the  men  in  the   shallop. 


At  Nauset  Village  255 

under  a  twilight  sky,  and,  in  some  semblance  of 
order,  the  whole  throng  of  Aspinet's  warriors  took 
up  their  march  across  the  Cape.  One  of  them 
lifted  Miles  in  his  arms,  and,  though  the  boy  would 
have  preferred  some  other  bearer  than  a  Nauset 
man,  he  contented  himself,  since  Squanto  and  Iya- 
nough  walked  close  by. 

At  a  good  pace  they  passed  up  into  the  scrub 
pines  of  the  sand  hills,  and  turned  westward,  where, 
in  the  dull  sky,  the  restful  stars  were  beginning  to 
show,  just  as  Miles  had  seen  them  come  out  above 
the  piny  hills  of  Plymouth.  The  branches  bent 
noiselessly  apart,  as  the  swift  train  pressed  forward 
through  the  woods.  The  moon  was  up  now ; 
Miles,  glancing  back,  saw  it  gleam  amid  the 
boughs,  and  at  first  its  staring  light  startled  him. 
Then  they  came  through  the  trees  out  on  broad 
sand  again ;  the  tide  was  far  down,  and  out  yonder, 
where  the  line  of  moonlit  water  began,  lay  the  Eng- 
lish shallop,  with  its  sails  all  white. 

Down  the  beach  the  naked  feet  of  the  Indians 
pattered ;  now  the  water  splashed  noisily  beneath 
their  tread,  knee  high,  waist  high.  Clearly  and 
more  clearly  Miles  made  out  the  figures  of  the  men 
in  the  shallop,  erect  and  musket  in  hand,  the  gleam 
of  the  corselets  and  helmets,  their  faces  almost. 

It  was  Captain  Standish  himself,  who,  slipping 
his   ready   musket  to  one  hand,  reached  over  the 


256  Soldier  Rigdale 

gunwale  and,  grasping  Miles  by  the  waistband, 
dropped  him  down  into  the  bottom  of  the  shallop. 
As  he  did  so  he  uttered  something  that  sounded  like 
a  fervent  "  Thank  God  !  " 

Miles  neither  heard  nor  heeded  that,  but  he  did 
remember  of  a  sudden  that  he  was  a  wretched,  little 
fugitive  criminal,  now  delivered  into  the  hands  of 
English  justice,  and  even  his  hero,  who  had  been 
his  friend,  had  thought  fit  to  take  him  up  roughly 
and  drop  him  down  against  his  boots.  He  rolled 
a  little  out  of  the  way,  and,  crouching  against  the 
side  of  the  boat,  buried  his  face  in  his  arms. 


CHAPTER   XIX 


FALLEN    AMONG    FRIENDS 


AT  last  the  shallop  had  put  off  from  the 
Nauset  shore.  The  babel  of  clamorous 
Indians  sank  down,  and,  in  its  stead, 
sounded  the  thud  of  muskets  laid  by  and  the  clatter 
of  sweeps  fitting  to  the  rowlocks.  Sharp  English 
commands  Miles  heard  too,  but  still  he  did  not 
raise  his  head,  till  some  one  lifted  him  to  his 
feet. 

All  about  him  gleamed  the  hard  whiteness  of 
moonlight,  under  which  the  idle  sail  looked  vast  and 
ghostly  and  the  faces  of  the  men  around  him  seemed 
unfamiliar.  But  he  heard  Captain  Standish's  voice: 
"  Come,  Miles,  clamber  forward  with  you.  Your 
sister  is  fair  sick  for  the  sight  of  you." 

He  saw  it  was  the  Captain  who  had  lifted  him 
up,  and  he  caught  the  arm  that  held  him.  "  I'm 
sorry,  sir,  oh,  I'm  mighty  sorry ;  I  won't  fight 
another  duel  nor  run  away,"  he  whispered  huskily. 

"  Don't  cry,  my  man,"  the  Captain  spoke  hur- 
riedly.    "  It's  well  over  and  you're  safe  with  us  now. 

Here,  Gilbert  Winslow,  help    him    forward ;    and, 
s  257 


258  Soldier  Rigdale 

Stephen  Hopkins,  draw  you  nearer ;  I've  a  word 
to  say." 

Dumbly  obedient,  Miles  clambered  forward  over 
the  thwarts.  Young  Gilbert  Winslow,  one  of  the 
rowers,  put  out  a  hand  to  steady  him,  and,  to  the 
boy's  thinking,  grasped  his  arm  roughly.  They 
need  not  begin  punishing  him  at  once,  he  reflected 
miserably  ;  he  was  sorry  for  all  he  had  done,  but 
when  he  tried  to  tell  them  so,  even  the  Captain 
had  thought  him  whimpering  because  he  had  been 
afraid. 

Then  for  a  moment  he  forgot  his  wretchedness, 
as  he  reached  the  forward  thwart  where  Alden  sat, 
and  from  beside  him  heard  Dolly's  voice  pipe  up. 
Miles  slipped  upon  the  reeling  bottom  of  the  shal- 
lop, and,  stumbling  closer  to  his  sister,  put  his  arms 
about  her.  "  You're  here,  Dolly  ?  "  he  asked,  in 
a  whisper,  half  afraid  to  let  his  voice  sound  out. 
"  You're  safe,  you  and  Trug  ?  " 

Such  a  ragged,  tousled  Dolly  as  she  was,  half 
hidden  in  the  folds  of  Alden's  cloak,  and  almost  too 
weary  even  to  talk.  She  was  quite  safe,  though,  she 
found  energy  to  tell  him,  and  Trug  was  there  behind 
her,  tied  in  the  peak  of  the  bow.  He  was  sore  with 
his  bruises,  but  Goodman  Cooke  said  he  would  live, 
for  all  that.  The  Indians  of  Manomet  had  done 
neither  of  them  further  hurt,  but  had  sent  them  to 
the  Sachem  Iyanough,  who  was  a  good  man  and  had 


Fallen  among  Friends  259 

delivered  them  to  the  English  that  very  morning. 
So  it  was  all  well,  but  for  the  poppet. 

"  Did  they  take  it  from  you  ?  "  questioned  Miles, 
mindful  of  his  own  experience  with  the  whittle. 

"  N  —  no,"  answered  Dolly,  beginning  to  sniffle. 
"I  —  I  did  give  her  to  a  little  maid  at  Manomet. 
Because  she  ground  the  corn  and  fetched  wood  all 
day,  and  she  had  no  poppet.  I  gave  it  to  her,  and 
—  and  the  bad  old  Chief,  he  took  her  away  from 
the  little  maid  —  he  did  tear  her  up  and  make  red 
cloth  of  her —  and  he  tied  her  in  his  hair,  my  pop- 
pet Priscilla."  Dolly  curled  herself  up  against 
Alden's  arm  and  wept  wearily. 

"  Very  like  Priscilla  Mullins  can  make  you 
another,"  the  young  man  suggested  kindly,  though 
his  face,  in  the  moonlight,  looked  amused. 

"  'Twould  not  be  she,"  wailed  Dolly,  provoked 
at  such  stupidity,  and  went  on  to  cry  as  only  a  very 
tired  little  girl  can  cry. 

But  Miles,  quite  tearless,  leaned  back  against 
Alden's  knees,  and,  without  daring  to  look  at  the 
men  about  him,  gazed  up  into  the  shimmery  sky. 
All  the  time,  though,  he  was  conscious  that  yonder 
in  the  stern  sat  Master  Stephen  Hopkins,  and  he 
thought  of  him  and  tormented  himself  with  wonder- 
ing what  punishment  he  would  inflict  till  he  felt  it 
almost  a  relief,  when  at  last  his  guardian  came  strid- 
ing across  the  rowers'  seats  toward  him- 


260  Soldier  Rigdale 

He  came,  indeed,  but  to  help  Alden  unfurl  the 
sail,  for  they  were  now  well  out  from  shore,  and  the 
breeze,  though  of  the  faintest,  was  worth  calling  to 
their  aid.  But  when  that  task  was  done,  Master 
Hopkins  set  himself  down  on  the  thwart  by  Alden, 
and  presently  spoke  to  Miles,  who  started  guiltily, 
for  all  nothing  worse  was  said  than,  "  Take  my 
cloak  here,  Miles  Rigdale,  and  wrap  it  about  you." 

It  was  chilly,  now  they  were  out  on  the  open  bay, 
as  Miles,  in  his  torn  shirt,  knew,  but,  without  look- 
ing at  the  speaker,  he  shrank  away,  muttering : 
"  I  wish  it  not.     I  am  not  cold,  sir." 

"  Take  the  cloak  as  I  bid  you,"  Master  Hopkins 
repeated,  in  as  stern  a  voice  as  if  it  were  a  dose  of 
poison  he  were  pressing  upon  Miles.  "  Let  me 
have  no  more  of  this  sullenness." 

He  spoke  so  sharply  and  loudly  that  every  one 
must  hear ;  Miles  thought  to  feel  the  indignant  eyes 
of  the  company  turn  toward  him.  "I  —  I  want  to 
go  up  in  the  bow  beside  Trug,"  he  whispered  Alden, 
and,  eager  to  put  as  much  space  as  possible  between 
himself  and  Master  Hopkins,  clambered  over  the 
thwart  into  the  peak.  There  he  crouched  close  to 
the  battered  old  dog,  who  licked  his  hands,  and  lay 
so  covered  by  the  cloak  that  he  could  see  only  the 
blank  moon  rolling  through  the  blue-black  sky. 

But,  though  he  did  not  look  on  his  companions, 
he  could  hear  their  voices  distinctly.     Alden  it  was 


Fallen  among  Friends  261 

who  spoke  first:  "We  are  not  heading  for  home  the 
quickest  way,  are  we,  sir  ?    We  follow  the  shore  —  " 

"  'Tis  that  the  Captain  holds  it  best  that  we  stand 
in  to  land  and  get  fresh  water,"  Hopkins  made  an- 
swer. "  After  that  we  are  to  hasten  our  shortest  way 
unto  Plymouth.    For  there's  ill  news  astir  at  Nauset." 

"  What  might  that  be  ?  " 

"  They  tell  us  the  Narragansetts,  that  fierce  tribe 
to  southward,  have  risen  and  spoiled  some  of  Massa- 
soit's  men  and  taken  the  King  himself  prisoner." 

There  was  an  instant's  silence,  during  which  Miles 
listened  strainingly,  then  Alden  spoke  in  a  different, 
slow  tone  :  "  And  after  they  have  dealt  with  Massa- 
soit,  should  they  attack  Plymouth  because  it  is  allied 
to  him  —  " 

"  The  pick  of  our  fighting  men  are  here  in  the 
shallop,"  Hopkins  answered  deliberately. 

Miles  felt  something  press  against  his  legs  as  he 
lay,  heard  a  sleepy  whimper  from  Dolly.  "  Let 
your  sister  rest  by  you,  Miles,"  spoke  Alden,  bend- 
ing over  him.     "  I'm  going  to  aid  at  the  sweeps." 

"And  you,  Miles,"  added  Master  Hopkins,  "were 
best  give  your  thought  to  praying  unto  God  that 
your  mad  prank  may  not  prove  the  means  of  draw- 
ing the  men  from  Plymouth  at  her  greatest  need." 

Once  more  there  was  silence,  save  for  the  steady 
creak,  creak  of  the  oars  against  the  thole-pins,  and 
now  and  again  the  flap  of  the  listless  sail.     Miles 


262  Soldier  Rigdale 

lay  quite  still  and  stared  at  the  round  moon,  yet  did 
not  see  it,  for  before  his  eyes  loomed  only  the  un- 
guarded cottages  of  Plymouth,  white  under  the 
moonbeams,  and,  crawling  toward  them  from  the 
black  pine  hills,  the  slinking  forms  of  the  Narra- 
gansett  warriors.  Even  when  he  shut  his  eyes  and, 
at  last,  for  sheer  exhaustion,  slumbered,  he  saw  in 
his  dreams  the  sleepy  little  settlement,  all  uncon- 
scious of  the  danger  crowding  close  upon  it,  and  the 
horror  of  this  that  his  own  folly  had  made  possible 
startled  him  into  wakefulness  again. 

He  saw  the  mast  sway  blackly  against  the  dull 
heavens,  whence  the  moon  had  dropped,  and,  with 
something  of  comfort  in  their  mere  presence,  heard 
the  men  grumbling  inaudibly,  as  they  tugged  at  the 
sweeps.  A  dead  chill  was  in  the  morning  wind,  so 
gladly  he  huddled  the  cloak  more  closely  about  him 
and  drowsed  once  more.  But  the  same  vision  of 
leaping  savages  and  blazing  cottages  burned  before 
his  eyes,  till,  with  a  half  stifled  cry,  he  started  up,  as 
through  his  dreams  rang  an  Indian  whoop. 

All  about  him  yellow  sunshine  rippled  on  the 
water ;  English  voices  sounded  cheerily,  and  with 
them  mingled  the  clatter  of  Indian  tongues.  So 
much  of  his  dream  was  true,  yet  it  could  be  no 
attack  upon  the  shallop,  for  Dolly,  quite  uncon- 
cerned, sat  gazing  down  at  him  from  the  nearest 
thwart. 


Fallen  among  Friends  263 

"You  are  to  get  up,"  she  greeted  him  gayly. 
"  We  are  at  Cummaquid  to  eat  breakfast  with 
Sachem  Iyanough ;  the  Captain  and  some  of  the 
men  have  gone  ashore  unto  him,  and  they  have  sent 
us  roast  fish  hither,  and  there  is  clean  bread  from 
home.  And  you  are  to  rise  and  eat  with  us,  Master 
Hopkins  says." 

At  that  name  Miles,  still  half  dazed  with  sleepi- 
ness, sprang  to  his  feet.  Near  at  hand,  across  the 
noisy  blue  water,  gleamed  the  green  shores  of 
Cummaquid,  where  he  could  see  a  swarm  of  dusky 
figures,  and  in  their  midst  the  glitter  of  the  armored 
Englishmen.  But  nothing  of  the  shore  or  even  of 
the  folk  about  him  was  quite  real,  save  the  voice  of 
Master  Hopkins  ;   Miles  did  not  look  at  his  face. 

Creeping  into  the  stern  sheets,  as  he  was  bidden, 
he  choked  down  the  food  that  was  given  him,  good 
bread  and  fish,  that  seemed  to  him  gall  and  ashes. 
For  the  men  about  him  spoke  anxiously  of  the  need 
of  getting  speedily  to  Plymouth,  till  Miles,  heavy 
with  the  sense  of  guilt,  scarcely  dared  stir  or  breathe, 
or  even  think.  Only  when  Master  Hopkins  rose 
from  beside  him  did  he  venture  so  much  as  to  shift 
his  position ;  then  he  swung  about  stealthily  and 
leaned  his  head  upon  one  arm  that  rested  on  the 
gunwale.  He  let  one  hand  droop  into  the  water, 
and,  watching  the  ripples  slip  between  his  fingers, 
thought  only  of  their  flow  and  fall. 


264  Soldier  Rigdale 

So  he  was  still  sitting,  '  1  what  looked  a  sullen  fit, 
when  a  good  capful  of  wind  came  ruffling  it  along 
the  water,  and  the  Captain  and  his  squad  splashed 
noisily  from  the  shore.  Miles  heard  about  him  the 
clatter  of  their  embarkation,  the  creak  of  the  hoisted 
sail,  the  brisk  voices  of  the  men,  and  he  longed  to 
slip  back  to  his  old  place  in  the  bow,  away  from 
them,  but  he  durst  not  venture  it.  He  stared  down 
into  the  blue  water,  that  now  began  to  press  more 
swiftly  through  his  hand,  and,  when  he  lifted  his 
eyes,  the  green  shore  was  fading  in  the  distance. 

With  a  creak  of  the  cordage,  the  shallop  came 
about  on  a  fresh  tack,  so  only  dazzling  water  that 
made  his  eyes  ache  now  lay  before  Miles.  Through 
the  rents  in  his  shirt  he  felt  the  sun  hot  on  his  bare 
shoulders,  and  involuntarily  he  made  a  restless 
movement.  "  What's  amiss,  Miles  ?  "  spoke  the 
Captain's  quick  voice.  Miles  did  not  answer,  but, 
feeling  rebuked,  sat  silent,  and  studied  the  grain  of 
the  wood  in  the  seat  on  which  he  perched. 

But  the  Captain,  sitting  next  him,  began  to  ask  him 
questions  in  a  curt,  matter-of-fact  tone,  as  to  what 
Indian  villages  he  had  entered,  and  whether  he  had 
noted  signs  of  warlike  preparation,  to  all  of  which 
Miles  answered  hesitatingly,  a  little  frightened,  be- 
cause the  men  about  him  silenced  their  talk  to  hark 
to  him. 

Once   he   glanced   sidewise   at   Standish,  but   the 


Fallen  among  Friends  265 

latter's  brows  were  puckered  and  his  eyes  preoccu- 
pied, so  Miles,  not  knowing  whether  he  was  worried 
about  the  savages  or  angry  with  him,  looked  again 
at  his  shoes.  But  when  the  Captain  relapsed  into 
grave  silence,  his  fear  grew  greater  than  his  shame 
before  rebuke;  so  at  last  he  plucked  the  Captain's 
sleeve  and  whispered  him  :  "  Is  there  any  chance, 
sir,  —  maybe  shall  we  come  to  Plymouth  ere  the 
Indians  kill  all  the  people  ?  " 

"  What  set  such  a  mad  fancy  in  your  head  ?  " 
Standish  asked,  almost  sharply.  "  There's  not  an 
Indian  within  six  league  of  Plymouth.  Don't  worry 
yourself  for  that,  lad;  you'll  find  the  village  as  you 
left  it,  and  all  the  women  ready  to  weep  over  you." 

At  these  first  comforting  words  he  had  received 
since  he  boarded  the  shallop,  Miles  plucked  up  heart 
and  drew  closer  to  Captain  Standish.  But  speedily  he 
took  note  of  the  anxiety  that  made  the  Captain 
forgetful  of  him,  and,  with  a  new  sorrow,  he  told 
himself  that  to  his  hero  he  was  no  longer  "  Miles, 
my  soldier,"  but  a  foolish  boy,  who,  because  he  was 
little,  must  be  spoken  to  gently,  and  not  even  let 
know  the  full  extent  of  the  evil  he  had  brought 
about.  For,  spite  of  Standish's  cheerful  speech,  he 
could  see  clearly  enough  that  every  man  in  the  craft 
was  troubled  and  longing  to  reach  the  endangered 
settlement. 

But  the  wind  blew  lightly,  in  veering  flaws,  so  the 


266  Soldier  Rigdale 

shallop  must  make  tedious  long  tacks,  while  the 
hours  rolled  out.  The  heat  began  to  go  from  the 
air,  so  Miles  was  glad  to  wrap  himself  in  a  spare 
cloak,  as  the  Captain  ordered ;  and  the  sun,  in  the 
west,  slipped  behind  gray  clouds.  The  water  dark- 
ened, and  the  twilight  had  fallen  in  earnest,  when  at 
last  the  shallop  tacked  in  at  the  outer  entrance  of 
Plymouth  Harbor. 

At  first  the  thickly  wooded  beach  point  screened 
the  shore,  but,  as  the  little  craft  rounded  it,  the  dim 
hills  across  the  harbor  were  visible,  and  there,  on  the 
greatest  hill,  too  low  for  stars,  Miles  saw  sparks  of 
light  twinkle. 

It  was  as  if  the  men  in  the  shallop  all  drew  breath 
again,  and  Miles  himself,  forgetting  his  guilt  and 
the  punishment  in  store  for  him,  cried  joyfully: 
"  They're  safe  !  " 

But  in  a  moment  half  the  joy  went  from  him,  for, 
when  Alden,  in  the  bow,  fired  his  musket  thrice, 
with  startling  reechoes,  Master  Hopkins  told  him 
grimly  that  the  signal  was  to  let  the  people  yonder 
know  he  had  destroyed  neither  himself  nor  his  sister 
by  his  sinful  foolhardiness.  Miles  hung  his  head 
sorrily,  and,  for  all  Captain  Standish  presently 
clapped  him  on  the  shoulder  and  bade  him  look 
how  the  people  flocked  to  the  landing,  did  not 
glance  up  till,  with  a  splash  of  oars  in  the  quiet 
water,  the  shallop  lay  to,  by  the  dark  rock. 


Fallen  among  Friends  267 

In  the  thick  twilight  the  faces  of  the  people 
gathered  thither  could  not  be  made  out,  but  all  the 
colony  was  there,  Miles  guessed  by  the  babel  of 
voices,  and,  after  they  had  lifted  him  ashore,  he 
knew  it  was  Priscilla  Mullins  who  hugged  him  un- 
dignifiedly,  and  he  thought  it  was  Mistress  Brewster 
who  cried  when  she  spoke  to  him.  But  he  had  no 
time  to  make  certain,  for  just  then  Master  Hopkins 
grasped  him  by  the  arm  and  led  him  away  up  the 
hill  to  his  house. 

Within  the  familiar  living  room  a  candle  was 
alight,  that  set  Miles  blinking  as  he  was  brought  in 
from  the  darkness,  but  he  made  out  Mistress  Hop- 
kins, with  an  anxious  scowl  on  her  brows,  though, 
for  all  Miles's  torn  shirt,  she  did  not  scold  one 
word,  and  he  saw  Constance,  with  her  eyes  red, 
and  Giles,  who  had  tramped  in  after  him,  and 
Dotey  and  Lister.  "Then  they  didn't  hang  you?" 
Miles  cried  to  the  latter,  too  weary  to  be  civil. 

"  Hang  who  ?  "  asked  Ned,  pretty  sheepishly,  as 
his  master's  eyes  were  upon  him. 

"You  said  they  were  going  to  hang  you —  " 

"Not  I,  never,"  vowed  Ned,  with  his  face  flush- 
ing, and,  slouching  off  into  the  bedroom,  rattled  the 
door  to  behind  him. 

Miles  followed  him  thither  speedily,  —  he  was 
not  to  be  coddled  by  two  soft-hearted  women, 
Master  Hopkins  said,  —  and  Giles  and  Dotey  came 


268  Soldier  Rigdale 

too.  They  questioned  him  eagerly  of  his  advert 
tures,  but  Miles,  unflattered  even  by  such  atten- 
tion, would  not  speak  of  Indians  or  of  birch 
canoes,  just  poured  forth  his  woes  in  a  weary  voice 
upon  the  verge  of  tears :  he  would  surely  be 
soundly  whipped,  and  Ned  had  said  they  would 
be  hanged  and  they  hadn't  been,  and  if  Ned  hadn't 
said  it,  he  wouldn't  'a'  run  away. 

"  I  am  right  sorry,  for  your  sake,  I  was  not  dealt 
with  less  mercifully,"  Lister  said  bitterly,  and  Miles, 
glancing  up  at  him,  was  checked  in  his  lamentation  ; 
truly,  Ned  looked  miserable,  with  his  face  white  and 
a  noticeable  limp  in  his  gait,  and  Dotey,  too,  had 
one  hand  bandaged,  but,  most  awe-inspiring  of  all, 
Miles  noted,  as  Ned  unfastened  his  shirt,  a  vivid 
red  mark  about  the  base  of  his  neck.  "  What  was 
it  they  did  to  you,  then  ? "  he  asked,  but  neither 
of  the  Edwards  seemed  eager  to  explain. 

"  They  just  tied  'em  neck  and  heels,"  Giles  vol- 
unteered presently,  as  he  began  undressing.  "  And 
before  they'd  kept  them  so  an  hour,  they  promised 
amendment  and  —  Hey,  Ed  Dotey,  make  Ned  cease 
throwing  shoes  at  me." 

With  a  wrangling  word  or  two  peace  was  restored, 
and  the  young  men  took  themselves  to  rest ;  Miles 
noted  that  the  ex-duellists  drew  the  line  at  sharing 
one  bed,  for  Ned  Lister  lay  down  beside  him,  while 
Giles  and  Dotey  slept  together. 


Fallen  among  Friends  269 

How  quiet  and  clean  it  seemed  in  the  little  cham- 
ber, Miles  thought ;  and  how  blessed  it  was  that  the 
Indians  had  not  fallen  on  Plymouth  !  Involuntarily 
he  sighed  for  very  peace  and  happiness,  then  lost  all 
sense  of  comfort  at  the  recollection  of  the  morrow 
and  the  punishment  deferred  that  yet  would  surely 
come.  "  Ned,  O  Ned,"  he  began,  and  shook  Lister, 
who  was  lying  with  his  head  between  his  arms. 
"  Tell  me,  Ned,  how  greatly  does  it  hurt  to  be  tied 
neck  and  heels  ?  " 

"  Um-m-m  !  "  groaned  the  exasperated  Lister. 
"  Miley,  if  you  say  f  neck  and  heels '  to  me  again, 
I'll  wake  up  and  thrash  you." 


CHAPTER   XX 


A    SON    OF    PERDITION 


MILES  was  not  fated,  however,  to  learn  by 
experience  how  it  felt  to  be  tied  neck  and 
heels ;  for  all  his  double  sin  of  abetting  a 
duel  and  running  away  from  the  settlement,  he  suf- 
fered no  unusual  punishment.  Instead,  next  day  at 
noon,  when  Master  Hopkins  returned  from  the 
fields,  he  ordered  him  into  the  closet,  and  there  gave 
him  as  thorough  a  flogging  as  even  the  boy's  tor- 
mented fancy  had  conjured  up. 

Miles  came  out,  with  his  shoulders  quivering, 
and,  not  staying  for  dinner,  slouched  away  through 
the  fields  to  the  shore,  where  he  stood  a  time  blink- 
ing out  to  sea.  He  had  been  bidden  go  present 
himself  to  the  Elder  and  be  admonished  for  his 
sins,  but  he  did  not  hold  it  necessary  to  go  just  yet. 

At  last  he  had   himself  tolerably  in  hand,  and, 

with  no  great  heart  for  what  was  before  him,  was 

loitering  along  the  shingle  to  the  village,  when  a 

shrill  voice    hailed    him,  and,  looking    up,  he  saw 

Jack  and  Joe  and  Francis  running  toward  him.     So 

Miles  put  on  an  unconcerned  bearing,  and,  making 

270 


A  Son  of  Perdition  271 

the  pebbles  clatter  beneath  his  tread,  swaggered  to 
meet  them. 

Oh,  yes,  he  could  tell  them  brave  tales  of  how 
he  had  lived  with  the  Indians,  he  bragged,  but  not 
now ;  he  had  to  go  now  and  be  admonished  by  the 
Elder,  he  explained,  as  if  he  took  pride  in  such 
awful  depths  of  iniquity. 

"And  Stephen  Hopkins  has  admonished  you  ere 
this,  I'll  warrant,"  chuckled  Francis.  "  How  heavily 
did  he  lam  you  ?  " 

With  melancholy  satisfaction,  Miles  pulled  off 
his  shirt  and  exhibited  his  stripes  to  his  admiring 
companions. 

"  Big  red  weals,"  quoth  Jack.  "  I'm  glad  'twas 
not  I  must  bear  such  a  banging.  Here's  more 
than  one  stroke  has  broken  the  skin." 

Miles  twisted  his  neck,  in  a  vain  effort  to  study 
his  smarting  shoulders,  while  his  estimate  of  himself 
rose  surprisingly. 

"And  for  each  whang  Miles  cried  out,  I'll  be 
bound,"  added  Francis. 

"  I  did  not  open  my  lips,"  boasted  Miles.  "  A' 
could  not  make  me.  You  can  talk,  if  you  will, 
Francie.  We  know  if  you'd  borne  the  half  of  this, 
we'd  'a'  heard  you  roaring  from  the  Fort  Hill  clear 
to  the  Rock.  But  I  mind  not  a  beating,  nor  aught 
they  can  do  to  me  or  say.  'Twas  so  brave  a  life  I 
led  among  the  Indians  —  " 


272  Soldier  Rigdale 

There  something  in  Francis's  face  made  Miles 
glance  over  his  shoulder,  and  right  behind  him,  his 
step  deadened  by  the  sand,  stood  the  Captain,  who 
was  gazing  down  at  him  with  a  look  between  con- 
temptuous and  amused,  that  made  the  other  lads 
slip  away,  and  set  Miles  scuttling  into  his  shirt. 

"  Well,  sir,  you  show  a  deep  and  edifying  sense 
of  the  mischief  you  have  done,"  Standish  said 
quietly,  but  the  very  absence  of  anger  from  his  tone 
made  Miles's  face  burn  the  hotter. 

He  was  glad  that  his  shirt  was  over  his  head  at 
that  moment,  so  he  could  not  see  the  speaker's 
look,  and  he  dreaded  to  meet  it.  But  when  he  had 
drawn  on  the  garment  and  could  glance  round  him, 
he  saw,  with  an  added  pang  of  humiliation,  that 
Captain  Standish,  not  holding  him  worthy  of  further 
notice,  had  trudged  on  to  the  landing. 

For  a  moment  Miles  stood  gazing  blankly  after 
him ;  then  he  turned  and,  kicking  up  the  sand  in 
half-hearted  little  spurts,  plodded  on  up  the  hill 
to  Master  Brewster's  gate.  Beneath  the  bluff,  on 
the  shore  of  the  brook,  he  came  upon  the  Elder, 
laboring  diligently  among  his  green  things,  and  told 
him  in  a  listless  tone  why  he  had  come  thither. 
Master  Brewster  talked  to  him  a  long  time  and 
wisely,  Miles  had  no  doubt,  but  he  only  heard  the 
words  vaguely,  for  he  was  feeling  the  piteous  smart 
of  his  irritated  shoulders,  and  watching  the  flecks 


A  Son  of  Perdition  273 

of  light  through  the  green  bushes  that  shifted  across 
the  Elder's  doublet,  and  harking  to  the  loud  purr 
of  the  fat  cat  Solomon,  who  was  rubbing  himself 
against  the  Elder's  knees. 

Yet  he  was  dully  sorry  when  the  Elder  dismissed 
him,  for  that  left  him  free  for  some  heavy  thoughts. 
It  would  be  a  little  comfort  to  speak  with  Dolly ; 
so,  rather  uncertain  what  welcome  such  a  rapscallion 
as  he  might  hope  for,  he  toiled  up  the  bluff  and 
faltered  into  the  Brewsters'  living  room. 

The  wind  from  the  sea  stirred  the  curtain  at  the 
window,  and  in  the  full  blast,  industriously  sewing 
at  a  small  gown,  Mistress  Mullins  sat  alone.  "  So 
you've  come  to  visit  me,  little  Indian  ? "  she  greeted 
Miles,  and  put  her  hands  to  her  brown  hair  that 
had  ruffled  in  the  draught.  "  My  scalp  is  quite 
safe  ?  You  are  well  assured  you  have  no  tomahawk 
about  you  ?  " 

Miles  shook  his  head  in  crestfallen  fashion ;  he 
only  wanted  to  see  Dolly,  he  murmured. 

"  She  is  in  bed,  poor  little  one  !  till  I  make  her 
some  tidy  clothes  to  put  on,"  Priscilla  answered. 
"  Stay  and  talk  with  me,  Miles,  like  a  gallant  lad. 
Come,  if  you'll  look  merry  again,  I'll  show  you 
something  rare.     'Tis  a  humbird." 

She  led  him  to  the  western  casement,  where  on 
the  window-sill  rested  a  little  cage  of  paper,  in  which 
fluttered  a  shimmery   atom   no   bigger  than  a   bee. 


274  Soldier  Rigdale 

For  a  moment,  because  Priscilla  expected  it  of  him, 
Miles  gazed  at  the  tiny  whirring  wings,  and  touched 
the  cage  gently,  but  in  so  listless  a  fashion  that  the 
young  girl  asked  abruptly  :  (t  What  has  gone  wrong 
with  you,  Miles  ? " 

"  Naught." 

"  Then  you  are  an  uncivil  youth  to  wear  such  a 
glum  face.  Come,  tell  me  it  all.  Is  it  that  Stephen 
Hopkins  hath  flogged  you  ?  " 

"  No ! "  Miles  answered,  with  an  angry  sniff. 
"  A  beating  more  or  less,  'tis  nothing  to  a  man." 

Priscilla  suddenly  put  an  arm  about  his  neck. 
"  My  poor  little  —  man  ! "  she  said,  and,  for  all  she 
laughed,  her  voice  was  tender.  "  I  know  I  am  but 
a  silly  woman,  yet  mayhap  I  can  help  you,  —  an 
you  let  me.  Is  it  that  the  Elder  rated  you  griev- 
ously ? " 

Miles  shook  his  head,  then,  spite  of  himself, 
blurted  out:  "'Tis  —  Captain  Standish  is  angry  and 
scarce  will  look  at  me.  And  he  has  ever  been  kind 
to  me.  But  now  he  will  have  none  of  me.  I  had 
no  mind  to  be  so  wicked ;  I  did  not  mean  what  I 
said  ;  I'm  sorry." 

"  Why,  you  need  not  lay  it  to  heart  if  the  Captain 
has  been  round  with  you,"  the  girl  coaxed.  "  He 
must  be  so  troubled  now  with  all  this  ill  news  of 
the  savages." 

"  But   he  —  he    thinks    I'm    not   sorry,"    Miles 


A  Son  of  Perdition  275 

faltered,  twisting  the  ends  of  the  window  curtain 
relentlessly  between  his  hands.  "  And  I  am,  but  I 
can't  go  to  him  and  say  it,  when  he  is  angered." 

"  But  I  can  go  to  him  and  tell  him  you  are  sorry, 
if  'twill  comfort  you,"  Priscilla  answered  coolly. 
"  I   have  no  fear  of  your  Captain." 

"  Will  you  so  ?  "  Miles  cried  gratefully.  "  Sure, 
you're  uncommon  good.  When  I'm  older  I'll 
marry  you,  —  unless  Jack  Alden  does  it  ere  then." 

Whereat  Mistress  Mullins's  face  flushed  pink, 
and  she  pulled  Miles's  ears,  and,  calling  him  a 
scamp,  packed  him  into  the  bedroom  to  speak  with 
Dolly. 

So,  when  Miles  ran  home  to  supper,  he  was  in 
an  almost  cheerful  mood,  which  speedily  ended,  for 
Master  Hopkins  made  him  read  a  sorrowful  chapter 
on  the  wrath  of  God  against  transgressors,  and 
cuffed  him  because  he  could  not  pronounce  the 
word  "  Zarhites."  Mistress  Hopkins  scolded  too, 
because  she  had  labored  all  the  afternoon  to  mend 
the  shirt  which  Miles  had  worn  upon  his  wander- 
ings ;  moreover,  she  would  have  to  make  the  trouble- 
some boy  a  new  doublet,  to  replace  the  one  he  had 
lost,  and  new  breeches,  for  those  he  now  wore  were 
disgracefully  ragged,  so  perhaps  she  had  reason  to 
be  vexed  on  his  account. 

"  But  I  did  not  tear  them  wantonly,"  Miles 
lamented  to  Ned  Lister  next  morning.     "  Yet  she 


276  Soldier  Rigdale 

says  she  is  so  busied  she  cannot  make  me  new 
clothes  for  days,  and  I  must  wear  my  breeches  all 
ragged  for  punishment." 

"  Hm ! "  answered  Ned.  "  Half  Plymouth  seems 
to  take  its  diversion  in  punishing  the  other  half." 
He  was  on  his  knees  between  two  rows  of  the 
rustling  green  cornstalks,  where  he  was  grubbing 
up  those  weeds  that  were  so  tough  as  to  resist  his 
hoe  ;  his  doublet  was  off,  but  he  had  so  scrupulously 
turned  up  the  collar  of  his  shirt  that  no  trace  of  the 
red  mark  about  his  neck  could  be  seen. 

It  was  so  unusual  for  Ned  to  work  that  Miles 
was  lingering  to  watch  him,  when  suddenly  the 
young  man  broke  out :  "  Look  you  here,  Miley, 
you  were  with  me  that  day  I  made  Dotey  to  fight 
me,  and  you  heard  all  I  said  unto  him,  so  I  ought 
to  tell  you  —  'twas  not  he  bore  tales  of  me  unto 
Hopkins  ;  'twas  the  mistress  herself." 

Miles  nodded  his  head.  "  I  never  had  any 
liking  for  her,"  he  said  softly. 

Ned  weeded  scowlingly.  "  Well,  she  made  Hop- 
kins go  unto  the  Governor  and  beg  that  Ed  Dotey 
and  I  be  released  after  we'd  been  tied  an  hour,"  he 
admitted,  in  a  grudging  tone.  "  She  might  be 
worse,  and  so  might  Ed  Dotey ;  he's  no  talebearer, 
though  he  is  a  self-sufficient  coxcomb." 

For  several  days  this  was  the  only  bit  of  private 
talk  which  Miles  had  with  Ned,  for  Master  Hop- 


A  Son  of  Perdition  277 

kins,  who  said  that  Lister  had  already  corrupted 
the  boy  sufficiently,  took  now  a  new  course  of  keep- 
ing the  two  rigorously  apart.  While  Ned  was  sent 
to  work  in  the  fields,  Miles  was  bidden  weed  in 
the  house-garden,  or  fetch  and  carry  for  Mistress 
Hopkins. 

Master  Hopkins  believed,  too,  that  Satan  found 
mischief  for  idle  hands,  so  he  saw  to  it  that  one 
task  followed  another,  till  Miles,  honestly  wearied, 
looked  back  with  fondness  to  his  life  among  the 
Indians  as  a  time  of  perpetual  holiday.  One  morn- 
ing, indeed,  about  a  week  after  his  return  to  Plym- 
outh, when  he  was  forbidden  to  help  Ned  dig 
clams,  and  ordered,  instead,  to  fetch  water  and  then 
weed  in  the  garden,  he  voiced  his  rebellious  wish: 
"  I  would  I  were  back  with  those  good,  friendly 
Indians  at  Manomet." 

Master  Hopkins,  who  was  busy  at  the  delicate 
task  of  repairing  the  lock  of  his  musket,  looked  up 
at  the  muttered  words.  "You  wish  to  dwell  among 
those  shameless  idolaters  ?  "  he  questioned  grimly. 
"Verily,  Miles  Rigdale,  you  are  a  son  of  perdition." 

A  very  terrible  name  that  was,  Miles  thought, 
but  it  was  worse  than  the  hard  name,  that  Master 
Hopkins  cuffed  him  till  his  ears  tingled  and  his 
eyes  watered. 

Frightened  at  his  own  wickedness,  and  smarting 
with  the  blows,  he  hurried  off  to  the  spring,  and, 


278  Soldier  Rigdale 

halfway  thither,  met  with  Francis  Billington.  Even 
Francis's  sympathy  would  have  been  welcome  just 
then,  and,  after  all  he  had  undergone  because  of  his 
confession  to  save  the  boy,  Miles  thought  he  had 
some  claim  to  it.  But  Francis  stiffened  up  at  his 
greeting  and  put  on  a  surprising  new  air  of  virtue. 
"  I'm  forbid  to  have  to  do  with  you,  Miles,"  he 
announced,  with  open  delight.  "  Sure,  I  see  not 
why  your  father  ever  need  keep  you  so  tenderly 
from  my  conversation.  Why,  you  are  yourself  the 
worst  lad  in  all  the  colony  ;  'twas  Captain  Standish 
himself  said  so  to  my  father." 

"  I  think  you  are  not  speaking  the  truth,"  Miles 
answered  doggedly ;  he  had  a  mind  to  fight  Francis 
for  such  a  story,  but  very  likely  if  he  fought,  Mas- 
ter Hopkins  would  whip  him.  So  he  drooped  his 
head  under  the  other's  taunt  and  plodded  on  to  the 
spring.  He  didn't  believe  Francis,  he  repeated  to 
himself,  while  he  swallowed  and  swallowed  in  his 
throat.  But  there  came  the  remembrance  of  the 
look  the  Captain  had  given  him,  there  on  the  shore, 
and  his  contemptuous  words,  and,  with  a  sickening 
fear  that,  for  once,  Francis  had  spoken  the  truth, 
he  felt  the  lump  in  his  throat  swell  bigger. 

He  did  not  care,  though  the  water,  as  he  scooped 
up  his  pailful  at  the  spring,  slopped  over  his  shoes, 
but  he  did  care  when  he  heard  on  the  pathway  from 
the  bluff  the  scatter  of  pebbles  under  a  quick  foot- 

6 


A   Son  of  Perdition  279 

step  ;  he  could  not  let  any  one  see  him  in  so  sorry 
a  mood.  Catching  up  his  pail,  he  pressed  into  the 
crackling  green  alders  at  the  farther  side  of  the 
spring,  and,  as  he  did  so,  heard  some  one  call 
sharply,  "  Miles." 

It  was  Captain  Standish's  voice,  Captain  Standish 
who  would  want  to  rate  him  as  the  worst  lad  in  the 
colony,  who  would  never  believe  he  was  penitent. 
Miles  put  his  head  down  and,  crashing  through  the 
alders,  never  paused  till  the  whole  dense  thicket  lay 
between  him  and  his  pursuer.  He  could  hear  on 
the  lifeless,  hot  air  no  sound  save  that  of  his  own 
fluttering  breath  ;  no  one  had  offered  to  follow  him, 
and  he  felt  suddenly  sorry  that  he  had  escaped. 

But,  without  courage  to  go  back  to  the  spring 
and  face  the  Captain,  he  crouched  down  beneath 
the  bushes  and  sat  a  long  time  staring  through  the 
leaves  at  the  bright  water  of  the  brook.  Up  in  the 
street  he  heard  eager  voices  once,  but  the  dread  of 
encountering  Captain  Standish  made  him  stay  quiet 
in  his  hiding  place,  till  the  street  was  still  again. 
Then  he  clambered  painfully  up  the  steeper  part 
of  the  bluff  below  Cooke's  house,  and,  with  a  new 
terror  growing  on  him  of  the  mighty  scolding  he 
could  expect  for  his  delay,  scudded  home. 

But  no  one  had  space  to  scold  him.  When  he 
came  to  the  house  he  found  Mistress  Hopkins, 
quite    silent,    and    Constance,    with    a    scared    face, 


280  Soldier  Rigdale 

busied  about  dinner,  and  Ned  and  Dotey,  with 
Giles  to  help,  overhauling  their  muskets.  "  What 
is  it  has  happened  ? "  Miles  questioned  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"  War !  "  Ned  answered  cheerily,  and  Mistress 
Hopkins,  with  a  grewsome  sort  of  satisfaction,  added 
that  she  always  said  they'd  yet  be  slain  by  the 
heathen  savages. 

"It  happened  at  Namasket,  five  league  from 
here,"  Ned  ran  on.  "  Squanto  and  two  other 
friendly  copper-skins,  Hobbamock  and  Tokama- 
hamon,  they  went  thither  quietly  to  learn  how  much 
truth  was  in  this  talk  of  rebellion  against  Massasoit. 
And  there  was  a  certain  Corbitant,  an  under-chief 
of  the  King's,  who  is  in  league  with  the  Narragan- 
setts,  and  he  discovered  them.  Hobbamock  broke 
from  them  and  came  fleeing  hither,  not  an  hour 
agone,  but  Tokamahamon  they  took  and  Squanto 
they've  slain.  So  we  are  furbishing  up  our  mus- 
kets." 

Poor  Squanto,  who  had  fetched  him  from  Nauset, 
was  dead.  That  was  Miles's  first  thought,  and  he 
was  honestly  grieved.  But  ere  dinner  was  out  he 
learned  from  his  elders  that  there  was  other  fearful 
matter  to  think  on,  for  if  Massasoit's  men  were 
rebelling  and  joining  the  Narragansetts  against  the 
King  and  his  allies,  it  meant  a  dreadful  danger  for 
the  settlement. 


A  Son  of  Perdition  281 

Quietly,  but  resolutely  enough,  the  Englishmen 
made  their  arrangements  to  march  against  Namasket 
and  punish  the  slayers  of  their  friends.  After  a  night 
of  watching  and  half  hidden  fear,  next  morning,  in 
the  midst  of  a  beating  rain,  a  little  squad  of  ten, 
with  the  Captain  at  their  head,  and  Hobbamock  to 
guide  them,  went  forth  to  the  attack. 

From  the  western  window  Miles  watched  them  go. 
He  had  hoped  to  be  allowed  to  slip  forth  from  the 
house  and  see  them  start  upon  their  expedition ;  at 
least  get  a  last  glimpse  of  Captain  Standish,  who, 
perhaps,  in  the  confusion,  would  forget  he  was  angry 
and  say,  "  Good-morrow,  Miles,"  as  he  used. .  So 
Miles  fetched  Master  Hopkins's  buff-coat,  and 
helped  Constance  with  the  breakfast  kettle,  and 
mended  the  fire,  and  quieted  Damaris,  and  waited 
and  hoped,  till  he  saw  the  last  man  of  the  column 
disappear  over  the  bluff. 

He  could  run  out  and  seek  a  dry  stick  of  wood 
from  the  pile  now,  when  going  forth  profited  him 
nothing.  He  slouched  into  the  wet  and  the  wind, 
and,  in  the  pashy  dooryard,  met  Ned,  who  was  in  a 
bad  temper,  because,  when  he  asked  his  master  to 
let  him  go  on  the  expedition,  he  had  been  con- 
temptuously bidden  by  Hopkins  to  "stay  home 
with  the  women  and  tend  the  disgraceful  hurts  he 
had  taken  in  his  godless  brawl." 

"  If  I'd  not  been  such  a  Jack  as  to  get  myself 


282  Soldier  Rigdale 

slashed,  I  might  'a'  gone,"  Ned  grumbled  now  to 
Miles,  as  he  kicked  his  heels  in  the  big  puddle  be- 
fore the  doorstone.  "  And  they'll  have  some  good 
fighting,  I'll  wager." 

"  Do  you  think  surely  some  of  our  men  will  be 
slain  ?  "  Miles  questioned,  terror-stricken. 

"  A  buff-coat  does  not  make  a  man  immortal," 
Ned  cast  over  his  shoulder,  as  he  stamped  into  the 
house. 

But  Miles,  standing  in  the  pouring  rain,  gazed 
up  the  path  by  which  the  little  company  had  gone. 
The  sky  was  thick  gray,  and  the  rain,  driven  by 
the  wind  from  off  the  harbor,  fell  in  long,  livid 
streaks.  He  took  up  a  shiny  wet  stick  from  the 
ground  and  snapped  it  slowly  in  his  hands.  "  The 
Captain  may  be  killed,"  he  told  himself  dazedly. 
"  And  he  does  not  know  that  I   be  sorry." 


CHAPTER   XXI 


BETWEEN    MAN    AND    MAN 


ALL  that  night  the  rain  fell  steadily;  hark- 
ing to  its  slow  patter  on  the  roof,  Miles 
"  thought  on  those  who  were  tramping  the 
forest,  and  wondered  how  they  fared.  Ned,  stretched 
beside  him,  save  for  his  regular  breathing,  lay  like 
one  dead,  and  yonder  in  the  living  room  he  could 
hear  Trug,  admitted  to  shelter  from  the  rain,  grum- 
bling in  his  sleep. 

A  long,  long  night  it  was,  and  the  day  that  fol- 
lowed, all  blurry  with  faint  sunshine,  was  well  nigh 
as  long.  Little  work  was  to  do  in  the  wet  fields, 
so  Miles  fetched  pails  of  water  and  tended  the  fret- 
ting babies,  while,  like  every  other  soul  in  the  colony, 
he  waited  for  news  of  the  Captain  and  his  men. 

A    second    night,    sickly    with    warm    mist,    had 

closed  in  on  Plymouth,  before  tidings  came.      Miles 

and  Giles  had  gone  forth  together  into  the  moist 

darkness  to   the  spring,  where  they   drank,  before 

drawing  a  last  bucketful  for  the  house  ;  the  alders 

looked  startlingly  dense  against  the  lighter  black  of 

the  sky,  and  Miles  kept  close  to  Giles. 

283 


284  Soldier  Rigdale 

Even  the  elder  boy  was  more  alert  than  his 
wont,  and  jumped  listening  to  his  feet,  when  far 
up  the  Namasket  trail  sounded  ordered  footsteps. 
"  'Tis  father  and  the  men  returning,"  he  cried  next 
moment,  and  scrambled  swiftly  up  the  bluff,  with 
Miles,  eager  yet  half  in  dread  lest  ill  had  befallen, 
panting  after. 

Down  through  the  dusk  of  the  trail  men  were 
coming  —  the  heavily  armed  Englishmen  and  in 
their  midst  some  scantily  clad  savages.  Giles,  for- 
getful of  reserve  for  once,  pressed  forward  boldly  to 
meet  his  father,  but  Miles,  having  no  one  to  meet, 
stood  back  in  the  bushes,  that  touched  his  face 
clammily,  and  watched  the  little  column,  noisy  now, 
as  home  approached,  swing  past.  At  its  head 
marched  a  stocky  figure  that  he  knew,  and,  as  if  the 
Captain  could  see  him  even  in  the  blackness,  Miles 
shrank  a  little  farther  into  the  bushes. 

Yet  he  joined  himself  to  the  very  end  of  the  col- 
umn, for  he  had  no  will  to  stay  alone  in  the  dark. 
Goodman  Cooke  marched  there,  and,  eager  to  have 
some  friend  in  the  party,  Miles  fell  into  step  beside 
him.  "  You  are  all  come  back  safe,  sir  ?  "  he  asked 
propitiatingly. 

"Surely,  yes,"  the  other  replied.  "All  sound, 
save  three  Indians  we  fetched  hither  to  the  Doctor. 
Best  of  all,  we've  Squanto  here ;  we  found  him 
unhurt." 


Between  Man  and  Man  285 

By  this  they  had  come  down  into  the  village, 
where  all  the  people,  it  seemed,  had  hurried  forth, 
and,  hearing  the  news  of  their  interpreter's  return, 
showed  no  small  joy  thereover.  Squanto,  a  figure 
of  varying  light  and  shade  beneath  the  lantern  glow, 
took  such  expressions  of  kind  feeling  stolidly,  and 
profited  from  the  good  wishes  of  his  white  friends 
by  asking  for  strong  water.  There  was  some  merri- 
ment thereat  among  the  Englishmen,  —  all  were  in 
good  spirits,  in  truth,  for  the  expedition  had  fared 
well. 

In  broken  fragments  Miles  caught  the  story  as 
he  was  hustled  about  among  the  returned  soldiers 
and,  with  the  other  lads,  stood  staring  at  them 
under  the  lantern  light :  how  the  Englishmen,  com- 
ing at  midnight  to  Namasket,  had  beset  the  house 
of  Corbitant,  but  found  that  valiant  chief  had  fled 
at  the  mere  rumor  of  their  approach ;  how  several 
of  the  Indians,  trying  to  press  forth  in  spite  of  their 
promises  that  no  harm  was  meant  them,  had  been 
hurt ;  how  Squanto  and  Tokamahamon  had  been 
found  alive ;  and  how,  after  leaving  for  Corbitant  a 
stern  warning  as  to  what  he  might  expect  if  he 
continued  to  stir  up  rebellion  against  Massasoit 
and  his  allies,  they  had  returned,  successful  and 
unscathed. 

But  the  story  was  quickly  told  by  the  hungry 
men,  and  then  they  scattered  to  their  houses.     The 


286  Soldier  Rigdale 

street  was  swiftly  emptied,  and  even  Giles,  calling 
to  Miles  to  fetch  home  the  bucket  they  had  left 
at  the  spring,  trudged  away  with  his  father. 

Miles  turned  slowly  up  the  street ;  he  had  ad- 
mitted it  to  no  one,  even  to  Giles  and  Ned,  but  the 
last  week  he  had  had  a  fear  of  the  black  woods. 
Spite  of  his  boasts  to  the  boys  of  his  merry  life  with 
the  savages,  he  shuddered  every  time  he  thought  of 
Nauset,  and  he  had  a  foolish  feeling  that  if  he  ven- 
tured into  the  forest  the  Indians  might  swoop  down 
on  him  again.  In  the  daytime  he  could  laugh  it 
away,  but  at  night,  and  especially  after  the  anxiety 
of  the  last  twenty-four  hours,  the  fear  came  on  him 
strongly,  and  it  did  not  seem  as  if  the  courage  was 
in  him  to  go  down  to  the  inky  spring  alongside  the 
stepping-stones  that  led  to  the  woods. 

He  stood  a  time  by  Cooke's  gate,  in  the  hope  that 
he  might  see  some  one  else  bound  for  the  spring,  but 
no  one  came.  He  went  a  few  steps  down  the 
street,  but,  if  he  returned  to  the  house  without  the 
bucket,  he  would  be  scolded,  so,  at  a  snail's  gait, 
he  trudged  uphill  again. 

Then  it  was  that  he  noted  the  companionable 
light  that  shone  in  the  window  of  Standish's  cottage, 
high  up  the  hillside,  and,  though  he  was  afraid  of 
the  Captain,  yet  there  seemed  a  kind  of  encourage- 
ment in  that  shiny  spark  that  made  him  cross  the 
street  and  loiter  nearer.     "  Maybe  John  Alden'll  be 


Between  Man  and  Man  287 

going  to  the  spring,"  he  told  himself.  "  Or  maybe 
—  maybe  I'll  go,  presently." 

Just  at  the  edge  of  the  Captain's  unfenced  door- 
yard,  he  halted  and  stood  gazing  at  the  light.  He 
was  not  spying,  to  be  sure ;  he  would  go  in  a 
moment.  Through  the  open  window  he  could  see 
a  corner  of  the  living  room,  a  table,  with  a  rack 
and  three  guns  above  it,  and,  as  he  gazed,  Alden,  a 
big,  black  figure,  strode  into  the  bright  corner  and 
set  down  two  bowls  on  the  table.  Miles  drew 
a  step  or  two  nearer.  "  Maybe  the  Captain  will 
come  into  the  light  next,"  he  told  himself.  "  And 
after  I've  seen  him,  then  —  " 

And  then  some  one  took  him  firmly  by  the 
shoulder,  and  right  beside  him  spoke  the  Captain's 
voice,  "  Well,  Miles  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  "  the  boy  gasped,  and  then,  in  a  panic- 
stricken  tone,  "  I'm  going  home  ;  prithee,  let  me  go 
home,  sir." 

"  Nay,  you  are  coming  in  with  me,"  Standish 
answered,  and,  helplessly,  Miles  yielded  to  the 
other's  grasp  and  stumbled  over  the  threshold. 

Within,  the  living  room  was  bare  and  martial,  with 
a  rapier  above  the  chimneypiece  that  caught  a 
gleam  from  the  candle  set  below  it,  and  the  form 
by  the  door  and  the  rough  stools  standing  stiffly  as 
on  parade.  On  a  shelf  beside  the  fireplace  there 
were  some  pots  and  platters  ;   Miles  noted  all  very 


288  Soldier  Rigdale 

accurately,  and  wondered  that  he  should  note  them 
at  such  a  time. 

He  started  when  Captain  Standish  spoke,  for  all 
his  tone  was  amused:  "  Here,  Jack,  set  a  bowl  for 
this  gentleman  I  have  fetched  to  sup  with  us.  And 
you,  Miles,  will  you  give  me  your  parole  not  to 
attempt  an  escape,  if  I  take  my  hand  from  your 
collar  ?  " 

Miles  eyed  the  shaft  of  candlelight  that  lay  at  his 
feet  and  ventured  no  answer.  He  knew  the  Cap- 
tain had  loosed  his  grasp  on  him,  and  then  he  heard 
him  ask,  in  a  different,  serious  tone  :  "  Are  you 
afraid  of  me  ?  " 

At  that  Miles  tossed  back  his  head,  stiffly  as  if  a 
bar  of  iron  were  run  down  his  neck.  "  No,  sir," 
he  said,  boldly  and  untruthfully. 

He  could  not  slip  away  now,  whatever  might  be 
in  store  for  him,  but  stood  rigid  and  unpretending, 
while  Captain  Standish  flung  off  his  buff-coat,  and 
Alden,  with  a  ponderous  movement,  lifted  the  soup 
kettle  to  the  table.  Then  he  sat  down  on  a  stool, 
as  he  was  bidden,  and  ate.  It  was  clam  broth,  and 
he  was  aware  of  the  good  flavor  of  it,  just  as  he  was 
aware,  beneath  all  his  alarm,  of  the  honorable  fact 
that  he  was  taking  supper  with  Captain  Standish. 
He  began  to  hazard  long  looks  at  the  Captain  and  to 
listen  to  the  talk  of  the  two  men,  with  some  thought 
for  their  words,  as  well  as  for  his  own  concerns. 


Between  Man  and  Man  289 

"  This  is  none  of  your  cooking,  Jack,"  said 
Standish,  as  he  rose  to  refill  his  bowl. 

"  Mistress  Mullins  fetched  us  the  broth,"  Alden 
replied,  with  a  studious  lack  of  interest.  "  She 
thought  we'd  have  naught  to  eat  in  the  house  to- 
night." 

"  'Twas  very  wisely  thought.  When  you  have 
eaten,  Jack,  best  carry  back  her  kettle.  They'll 
not  yet  be  abed  at  the  Elder's  house." 

Somehow,  after  that,  Alden  made  short  work  of 
his  portion,  and,  summarily  emptying  the  kettle 
into  the  Captain's  bowl,  gave  it  a  perfunctory  scrub 
and  started  briskly  for  Master  Brewster's  cottage. 

The  Captain,  with  his  face  sober  all  but  his  eyes, 
swallowed  his  broth  in  leisurely  silence  for  a  moment 
before  he  addressed  his  small  companion :  "  I  had 
speech  with  Priscilla  Mullins  several  days  since. 
What  is  this,  Miles,  that  she  tells  me  you  had  to 
say  to  me  ?  " 

Miles  crumbled  the  fag  end  of  his  piece  of  bread 
with  one  nervous  hand.  "Why,  'twas  —  'twas  — 
Captain  Standish,  is  it  true  you  think  me  the  worst 
lad  in  the  settlement  ?  "  He  looked  up  into  the 
other's  face,  and  something  he  saw  there  made  him 
blurt  out,  "  I  doubt  if  you  do." 

"  So  that's  why  you  ran  away  from  me  day  before 
yesterday,  is  it  ?  " 

Miles  kicked  his  heels  softly  against  the  legs  of 


290  Soldier  Rigdale 

his  stool.  "  Because  I  want  to  tell  you  I'm  sorry," 
he  murmured.  "  I  shall  never  run  away  to  the 
Indians  again.  I  —  I  was  but  talking  when  I  said 
those  words  unto  Francis  and  the  others." 

"  A  c  miles  gloriosus,'  eh  ?  "  said  the  Captain,  and 
smiled. 

Miles  saw  nothing  amusing  in  the  words,  but  he 
took  it  as  a  sign  the  Captain  was  his  friend  again, 
so  he  smiled  back.  "  I  won't  do  it  again,  sir,"  he 
promised  vaguely,  and  then,  as  Standish  rose  from 
the  table,  he  slipped  off  his  stool.  "  May  I  wash 
the  dishes,  sir  ?  "  he  volunteered  for  "a  girl's  work" 
eagerly. 

"  If  you  wish  it,"  the  Captain  answered,  and  then, 
about  the  time  Miles  had  dropped  the  bowls  and 
spoons  into  the  nearest  pail  of  water,  broke  out 
irrelevantly,  "  In  the  name  of  goodness,  Miles,  are 
those  the  only  breeches  you  have  to  wear?" 

Miles  clapped  his  right  hand  over  one  knee,  and 
his  left  over  an  ostentatious  rift  in  the  side.  "  She 
hasn't  time  to  make  me  new  ones ;  I'm  wearing 
these  for  punishment,"  he  explained. 

"Indeed!"  said  Standish;  he  took  his  pipe  from 
the  chimneypiece  and,  filling  it,  kept  silent  so  long 
that  Miles  finished  his  dishes  and  stole  over  to  the 
hearth  beside  him.  On  the  chimneypiece  some 
books  stood  up  from  the  miscellaneous  litter,  and, 
because  they  were  the  Captain's  books,  Miles  raised 


Between  Man  and  Man  291 

himself  on  tiptoe  to  read  their  names.  A  "  Bariffe's 
Artillery  Guide"  pleased  him  most;  he  was  wonder- 
ing if  he  could  learn  from  that  how  to  be  a  soldier 
like  the  Captain,  when  behind  him  spoke  a  familiar 
voice :  "  Well,  Miley,  do  you  have  it  in  mind  to 
sleep  at  home  to-night  ?  " 

Miles  swung  round  with  a  start ;  Master  Hop- 
kins and  that  bucket  of  water  and  the  scolding  to 
come,  —  he  remembered  all  clearly,  for  there  in 
the  doorway  stood  Ned  Lister,  with  his  out  of 
temper  look.  "  The  master  sent  me  to  find  the 
boy,"  he  explained  more  civilly  to  the  Captain. 
"I've  sought  him  all  through  the  village.  Come, 
Miles,  Master  Hopkins  —  " 

Involuntarily  Miles  pressed  close  to  the  Captain. 
"  Is  he  going  to  whip  me,  Ned  ?  "  he  asked  anx- 
iously. 

"Tell  Master  Hopkins  I'll  send  the  lad  home 
straightway,"  Standish  dismissed  Lister  curtly,  then 
puffed  a  moment  at  his  pipe  till  the  young  man's 
leisurely  footsteps  died  out  in  the  yard.  "  So  Master 
Hopkins  whips  you  often?"  he  questioned  abruptly. 

"  He  says  I  need  the  rod,"  Miles  answered  in  a 
woful  voice,  wondering  if  the  Captain  would  take  his 
part.  "  He  says  I'm  a  son  of  perdition.  I  see  not 
why  'tis  right.  When  Ned  Lister  called  Dotey  a 
fool,  he  said  he  was  in  danger  of  hell  fire,  and,  sure, 
son  of  perdition  is  a  worser  name  than  fool." 


292  Soldier  Rigdale 

"Hm!"  muttered  the  Captain.  "And  you're 
still  good  friends  with  that  valiant  duellist,  Edward 
Lister  ? " 

"  I  like  Ned  mightily,  yes.  But  Master  Hop- 
kins does  not  suffer  me  work  near  him." 

"  That's  for  punishment,  too,  I  take  it  ?  " 

Miles  nodded. 

"  At  this  rate  you  should  prove  the  best  lad  in 

the  colony,  not  the  worst,"  the  Captain  said  dryly ; 

and  then,  "  Say  we  walk  down  to  Master  Hopkins's 

house   now,  and  see  how  that  wounded    Indian  is 

anng. 

A  queer,  vague  hope  that  had  risen  in  Miles  van- 
ished and  left  an  amazing  emptiness ;  the  blackness 
of  the  lonely  spring,  and  the  whipping  for  that  even- 
ing's tarrying  came  to  his  mind  before  he  had 
crossed  the  room,  and  in  the  doorway  he  halted  short. 

"  What's  amiss  ?  "  asked  Standish,  with  no  great 
surprise,  however. 

"I  —  I  take  it,  I'm  afraid,"  gasped  Miles,  hot 
and  cold  with  the  shame  of  the  terror  he  could  not 
check.  "  I  must  go  down  to  the  spring,  and  'tis 
dark,  and  I  think  I'll  be  whipped,  and  —  and  —  " 
His  lips  were  twitching  childishly.  "But  I  wasn't 
afraid  at  Nauset,  not  a  whit,  and  I  didn't  cry  there," 
he  added  piteously. 

"  I  understand,"  the  Captain  said,  with  amazing 
kindness.     "I'll  go  to  the  spring  with  you,  Miles." 


Between  Man  and  Man  293 

For  the  second  time  in  his  life,  Miles  stepped  out 
into  the  night  with  the  Captain,  but  there  was  small 
elation  in  his  heart  with  the  knowledge  of  his  cow- 
ardice upon  him.  He  felt  a  censure  in  his  compan- 
ion's silence,  yet  he  dared  not  speak  himself,  only 
hurried  forward  as  fast  as  possible  to  end  the  walk. 
They  left  the  last  cottage  behind  them,  passed  a 
menacing  clump  of  bushes,  and  then,  at  the  head  of 
the  path,  Miles  spoke  out,  almost  in  spite  of  him- 
self: "  Pray  you,  go  back,  sir.  I'm  not  afraid.  I 
won't  be  afraid.     I'll  go  alone." 

He  called  back  the  last,  halfway  down  the  path. 
The  pebbles  rattled  with  shocking  loudness ;  there 
in  the  thicket,  across  the  sullen  brook,  something 
stirred,  he  knew.  With  his  eyes  on  the  black 
ground,  he  stumbled  toward  the  gurgle  of  the  spring, 
groped  for  his  bucket,  fearing  lest  his  hand  touch 
something  else,  and,  seizing  it,  filled  it  sparsely  at 
the  first  dip,  then,  setting  his  teeth  tight,  made  him- 
self fill  it  again,  slowly  and  carefully. 

Behind  him,  as  he  rose,  the  bushes  all  were  mov- 
ing and  alive,  and  something,  he  knew,  pressed  close 
at  his  heels.  He  could  not  hurry  with  the  bucket 
in  his  hand,  only  clamber,  step  by  step,  with  the 
breath  choked  within  him,  till  he  came  at  last  to  the 
black  pathway  above  the  blufF.  Before  he  could 
cast  a  frightened  look  up  the  trail,  the  bucket  was 
quietly  taken    from    him.     "  You  waited    here    for 


294  Soldier  Rigdale 

me  ? "    Miles    gasped,    and    then,    "  But    I    wasn't 
afraid." 

"  You  will  not  be  next  time,  Soldier  Rigdale," 
Standish  answered  him,  and,  putting  a  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  kept  it  there. 

Before  they  were  into  the  thick  of  the  settlement, 
he  spoke  again,  abruptly  :  "  So  you're  not  happy  at 
Master  Hopkins's  ?  " 

"  I  hate  it  there,"  Miles  said  under  his  breath, 
and  then  the  hope  that  the  Captain's  former  words 
had  raised  swept  back  once  more,  and  he  caught  the 
other's  hand.  "  Will  you  take  me  away  from  him, 
sir?"  he  asked  hurriedly.  "If  I  could  live  with 
Jack  Cooke,  anywhere  else,  I  know  I  could  be 
good." 

"  I  know  you  could,  too,"  Standish  answered. 
"And  I  think  your  father  and  mother  would  wish 
it.  But  Master  Hopkins  is  your  guardian  and  your 
kinsman ;  I  can  do  naught,  only  try  my  hand  at 
coaxing,  and  I'm  uncommon  ill  at  that.  My  faith, 
I  know  not  why  I  speak  it  out  to  such  a  babe  as 
you,  Miles,  but  you  must  say  naught  of  this,  re- 
member. Only  —  if  'twill  comfort  you  for  your 
tattered  breeches  and  the  rest  of  your  penances, 
—  so  soon  as  pretext  is  given  me,  I  am  minded  to 
take  you  from  Master  Hopkins  to  live  with  me." 

"  With  you  ? "  Miles  asked  in  the  blankness  of 
joy,  and  then  he   must   hush,   for  the  candlelight 


Between   Man  and   Man  295 

from  Master  Hopkins's  window  struck  across  his 
face,  and  an  instant  later  they  came  into  the  living 
room. 

Master  Hopkins  looked  angry,  of  course,  but  his 
face  relaxed  at  sight  of  the  Captain,  and  he  only 
bade  Miles  pack  off  to  bed.  "  But  he'll  surely 
thrash  you  in  the  morning,  Miles,"  Giles  said,  with 
a  sober  pucker  of  the  brows.  "  What  made  you 
stay  so  long  ?  " 

"  I  was  with  the  Captain,"  Miles  replied  light- 
heartedly,  and  to  himself  he  added,  "  And  by  and 
by  'twill  be  like  this  evening  every  day,  for  I'll  live 
with  him  all  the  time." 


CHAPTER   XXII 


THE    BEARER    OF    TIDINGS 


CAPTAIN  STANDISH  must  have  spoken 
to  Master  Hopkins  of  other  matter  than 
wounded  Indians,  for,  to  his  surprise,  Miles 
got  no  whipping  next  morning.  "  Since  the  Cap- 
tain needed  you,  I  cannot  punish  you  for  your 
delay,"  Master  Hopkins  said  curtly,  a  remission 
which  would  have  overwhelmed  Miles,  if  it  had  not 
been  surpassed  by  the  joyous  fact  of  Mistress  Hop- 
kins's bringing  out  an  old  suit  of  his  father's  that 
afternoon  and  starting  to  make  him  new  clothes. 

In  duty  bound  Miles  went  forth,  and,  seeking 
Priscilla,  thanked  her  awkwardly  that  she  had  spoken 
for  him  to  the  Captain.  He  wasn't  seeking  Francis 
Billington,  he  would  have  declared,  but  somehow 
he  sauntered  to  the  shore,  where  Francis  was  likely 
to  be,  and,  true  enough,  there  he  was,  paddling  in 
the  water  by  the  landing  rock. 

Miles  halted  on  the  beach  and  resumed  the  talk 
where  it  had  stopped  at  their  last  meeting.  "  Hm," 
he  sniffed  at  his  old  enemy,  "  I  take  it,  Captain 
Standish  has  other  things  to  do  than  gossip  about 

296 


The  Bearer  of  Tidings  297 

me  to  your  father.  You  lied  to  me,  Francis  Billing- 
ton,  when  you  said  he  called  me  the  worst  boy  in 
Plymouth,  and  I'm  going  to  thrash  you  for  that 
lie. 

"  I  was  but  jesting,"  vowed  Francis. 

Miles,  with  his  aggressive  fists,  smote  the  boy  and 
rolled  him  in  the  sand.  "  I'm  jesting  too,  now,"  he 
said  grimly. 

Francis  fled  howling  home,  and  Miles,  with  his 
shoulders  well  back,  swung  away  to  the  corn-field. 
"  I  had  to  beat  Francis,"  he  assured  himself,  "  but 
now  I'll  not  fight  nor  run  from  labor  any  more,  but 
bear  me  well,  because  I  am  to  go  live  with  the 
Captain  soon." 

But  Miles's  "soon"  proved,  after  all,  a  long,  and, 
in  some  ways,  a  cheerless  time.  There  were  many 
days  still  to  spend  in  his  guardian's  house,  where 
Mistress  Hopkins  scolded  at  his  carelessness,  where 
Master  Hopkins  bade  him  work  when  he  had 
thought  to  win  an  hour's  playtime,  and  where  more 
than  once,  sorry  to  tell,  Master  Miles  himself 
strayed  wantonly  into  mischief  and  was  sternly  but 
justly  punished  therefor. 

Nevertheless,  now  that  he  had  a  big,  pleasant 
hope  to  live  forward  to,  he  found  it  easier  to  bear 
what  was  not  to  his  liking  in  the  present.  After 
all,  when  he  tried,  it  was  not  so  difficult  as  he  had 
thought  to  do   Master   Hopkins's   bidding,   Miles 


298  Soldier  Rigdale 

told  himself,  and  never  realized  how  much  easier  it 
was  for  him  to  perform  his  tasks,  while  Ned  Lister, 
still  sulky  and  subdued  from  his  public  punishment, 
was  working  fiercely  and  would  not  pause  to  idle 
with  him. 

Thus  in  little,  dull  labors  and  the  large  pleasure 
of  looking  forward,  the  muggy  August  days  panted 
out  their  course  and  the  September  twilights  short- 
ened. A  long,  secure  time  of  peace  it  was  for  the 
settlement,  in  which  there  fell  but  one  incident, — 
an  expedition  which  ten  of  the  Plymouth  men  un- 
dertook far  up  the  coast  to  the  Bay  of  the  Massa- 
chusetts, where  they  traded  for  skins  and  made  a 
league  with  the  Indians.  Ned,  who  was  one  of  the 
company,  —  because,  Giles  Hopkins  told  Miles, 
laughingly,  he  was  held  too  much  of  a  firebrand  to 
be  left  behind,  —  came  home  with  something  of  his 
old  braggart  manner,  and  told  big  stories  that  set 
young  Rigdale  wild  with  envy.  Why  could  not 
he  be  a  man  at  once,  a  full-sized  man  with  a  musket, 
and  go  with  the  Captain  to  trade  or  fight  with  the 
savages  ? 

But  presently  there  was  manly  work  in  which 
Miles  shared,  for  with  the  rare  October  days  came 
the  time  of  harvesting,  when,  as  in  the  weeks  of 
planting,  every  man  and  boy  in  the  colony  must 
bear  a  part.  It  was  good  weather  to  work,  though, 
with  nothing  of  the  sickly  heat  of  the  April  days, 


The  Bearer  of  Tidings  299 

but  a  bracing  air  nerved  every  muscle,  and  the  sky- 
was  deep  and  clear. 

Miles  liked  the  stir  and  freshness  of  trudging  to 
the  fields,  one  of  the  whole  company,  in  the  awaken- 
ing cool  hours  of  the  morning.  His  task  at  first 
was  to  follow  after  the  reapers  in  the  barley  field 
and  gather  the  heavy  stalks  of  the  bearded  grain 
into  sheaves.  Then  after  the  barley,  as  the  days 
grew  shorter,  they  harvested  the  corn,  a  toilsome 
labor,  that  soon  became  irksome  to  Miles,  whose 
part  was  to  sit  all  day  under  cover,  amidst  the  stiff" 
stalks  and  rustling  leaves,  and  husk  the  ears  till  his 
arms  ached  and  his  fingers  were  sore.  By  and  by, 
when  the  corn  was  dried,  he  foresaw  he  should  have 
to  help  shell  the  kernels  from  all  those  ears,  and  he 
sighed  a  little,  as  he  watched  the  pile  rise  high. 

Yet  at  heart  he  knew  that,  like  all  the  others  in 
the  settlement,  he  was  glad  for  the  great  heap  of 
yellow  ears.  It  had  been  a  fruitful  harvest ;  the 
pease,  to  be  sure,  had  withered  in  the  blossom,  but 
the  increase  of  corn  and  barley  was  so  great  that 
there  was  no  fear  lest  the  colony  go  hungry  that 
winter.  Men's  faces  were  soberly  elate,  and  even 
Master  Hopkins  relaxed  his  customary  sternness. 

But  Mistress  Hopkins  had  a  mighty  grievance, 
for  Governor  Bradford,  after  the  harvest  all  was 
garnered,  set  apart  a  week  as  a  time  of  special  re- 
joicing.    "  That   means   in   a  community   of  men, 


300  Soldier  Rigdale 

even  of  the  most  godly,  a  week  of  feasting,"  she 
lamented.  "And  who  is  it  shall  prepare  the  food 
but  we  ten  poor  women  and  maids  of  the  colony  ?  " 

To  Miles,  however,  a  week  of  feasting  sounded 
pleasant ;  he  only  wished  he  were  Ned  Lister,  for 
the  Governor  sent  him  and  three  of  the  other  men 
fowling  to  get  provisions  for  the  merrymaking.  In 
a  day  the  four  killed  near  enough  to  last  the  com- 
pany a  week,  —  a  great,  feathery  heap  of  woodcocks, 
pigeons,  quails,  and  plump  wild  turkeys.  Miles 
shared  in  the  work  of  plucking  the  birds,  and,  for 
the  rest,  he  fetched  wood,  armful  by  armful,  for  the 
great  fires  that  blazed  out-of-doors,  and  he  ran  dares 
with  the  other  boys,  who  should  go  farthest  in 
among  the  blazing  brands,  till  Goodwife  Billington 
bore  down  upon  them,  and,  chancing  to  collar  her 
own  son,  cuffed  him  mercilessly. 

He  tugged  buckets  of  water,  too,  for  the  endless 
boilings  and  stewings,  till  his  back  ached,  but  he 
minded  it  little,  for  this  was  holiday  time.  The 
October  air  was  crisp ;  there  was  plenty  to  eat,  — 
meat,  and  bread  of  the  fresh  corn  meal ;  and,  all  the 
time,  the  zest  of  strangeness  was  added  to  the  jubi- 
lation by  the  coming  of  hordes  of  Indians  to  share 
the  English  cheer. 

The  third  day  Massasoit  presented  himself,  with 
ninety  hungry  warriors,  whereat  not  only  Mistress 
Hopkins    but    cheerful    Priscilla    Mullins    was    in 


The  Bearer  of  Tidings  301 

despair.  But  his  Majesty  did  his  part  in  supplying 
provisions,  for  next  morning  some  of  his  men  went 
into  the  forest  and  returned  with  five  fat  deer,  which 
he  bestowed,  as  seemed  to  Miles  most  fitting,  on 
the  Captain  and  the  Governor.  They  were,  how- 
ever, roasted  for  the  behoof  of  the  whole  company, 
and  on  the  last  day  of  the  feast,  after  the  Captain 
had  drilled  his  little  troop  before  the  King  to  do 
him  honor,  the  Plymouth  people  and  their  guests 
ate  of  good  venison. 

The  tables  were  spread  in  the  fields,  and  Miles 
held  it  a  notable  distinction  that  he  and  Giles  were 
bidden  by  the  Captain  wait  at  the  one  where  he  sat, 
with  Massasoit  and  the  Governor  and  others  of  the 
chiefs  of  the  red  men  and  white.  Miles  carried  the 
platters  of  meat  thither,  with  all  the  decorum  of 
which  he  was  master,  and  hoped  that  Standish  might 
throw  a  word  to  him,  so  his  happiness  was  final 
when,  on  his  last  trip  to  the  table,  the  Captain  called 
him  to  his  side.  He  was  sitting  at  the  left  hand  of 
the  Governor,  where  the  light  from  the  afternoon 
sun  struck  athwart  his  face,  and  over  opposite  him 
sat  King  Massasoit,  greasy  as  ever,  but  now  mon- 
arch-like in  a  great  robe  of  skins. 

It  was  to  him  that  Standish  spoke,  in  words  of 
the  Indian  tongue  of  which  Miles  caught  only 
one  or  two.  But  the  Captain  answered  his  ques- 
tioning look :  "  His  Majesty  was  pleased  to  crave  a 


jo2  Soldier  Rigdale 

sight  of  you,  Miles.  Truth,  you  put  him  to  stir 
enough  last  July.  It  was  he  who,  when  he  got 
tidings  from  Manomet,  despatched  the  order  thither 
that  no  hurt  should  be  done  you,  and  sent  us  word 
where  to  seek  you." 

"Did  he  do  so  much,  sir?"  Miles  asked,  and, 
gazing  at  the  stolid  Indian,  made  him  a  grateful 
bow.  "  I  should  like  to  tell  him  *  thank  you,'  "  he 
added.  "If  Squanto  would  say  it  for  me,  —  or 
you." 

Then  he  tramped  back  again  to  the  fire  to  take 
his  own  share  of  the  feast,  a  large  turkey  leg  which 
Constance  had  saved  for  him,  and,  whether  it  were 
overmuch  turkey  or  overmuch  labor,  he  was  too 
tired  even,  to  rise  and  witness  the  departure  of  the 
Indians  after  the  board  was  cleared,  for  all  he  knew 
the  musketeers  would  fire  them  a  parting  volley. 
'Twas  toilsome  work,  this  merrymaking,  he  agreed 
with  Priscilla,  and,  going  weary  and  cross  to  bed,  he 
was  glad  to  awake  to  the  Sabbath  quiet  of  the  little 
village,  and,  on  the  ensuing  morning,  drop  once 
more  into  the  ordered  round  of  duties. 

There  was  naught  to  do  in  the  following  days 
but  to  make  ready  against  the  coming  winter,  by 
mending  the  cottages  till  every  crevice  was  secure, 
and  fetching  good  supply  of  firewood  from  the 
distant  hills.  A  hint  of  wintry  weather  now  was 
in  the   chill  air  and  the   lead-colored  sky,  so,  one 


The  Bearer  of  Tidings  303 

November  afternoon,  Miles  spent  hours  in  hunting 
for  his  mittens  that  had  gone  astray. 

Together  he  and  Constance  and  Giles  opened,  in 
the  search,  the  little  chest  that  had  been  Goodman 
Rigdale's ;  it  gave  Miles  a  dull  pang  to  turn  over 
the  clothes  his  father  and  mother  had  worn,  but 
somehow  all  that  sorrow  seemed  to  have  fallen  very 
long  ago.  "  Yet  'tis  not  a  year  since  we  sailed  into 
the  harbor,"  he  said  softly. 

"  Just  a  year  to-morrow  since  we  sighted  Cape 
Cod,"  answered  Giles,  and  Constance  changed 
Miles's  thoughts  by  adding :  "  The  other  ship  with 
our  fresh  supply  should  come  now  very  speedily ; 
in  about  a  month  I  heard  father  say  we  might  look 
for  her.  I  hope  there'll  be  cattle  come  in  her  ; 
'tis  hard  for  the  babies  to  have  not  a  drop  of 
milk." 

"  And  no  butter,"  sighed  Miles,  thinking  of  him- 
self. "  And  if  they  bring  oxen,  'twill  be  easier 
ploughing,  come  spring ;  and  there'll  be  more  men 
to  fight  —  " 

"  There'll  be  two  more  next  spring,  in  any  case," 
Giles  interrupted.  "  Captain  Standish  says  that  then 
Bart  Allerton  and  I  shall  have  muskets  of  our  own 
and  be  enrolled  in  his  company." 

In  the  days  since  the  landing  at  Plymouth,  Giles 
had  grown  a  responsible  youth,  but  Miles,  who  had 
been  so  much  with  him  that  he  held  himself  near  as 


304  Soldier  Rigdale 

old,  was  quite  jealous  at  his  last  speech  and  won- 
dered if  no  one  would  offer  him  a  musket. 

He  took  himself  forth  from  the  chamber  into  the 
living  room,  where  Ned  Lister,  who  was  cleaning 
his  fowling  piece  and  was  in  a  good  temper,  as  he 
usually  was  when  he  was  busied  over  his  weapons, 
let  him  meddle  in  the  work  till  his  fingers  were 
blacked.  "  I'm  going  northward  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, where  Squanto  tells  me  a  flock  of  geese  are 
astir,"  Ned  spoke  further.  "  If  Master  Hopkins  is 
willing,  I'll  take  you  with  me,  Miley ;  'tis  months 
since  we've  gone  about  any  labor  together." 

Disappointingly,  Master  Hopkins  was  not  will- 
ing, for,  when  he  came  to  his  supper,  he  had  to 
report  an  evil  rumor,  which  one  of  Miles's  old  ene- 
mies, the  Nauset  Indians,  had  just  brought  to  the 
town,  that  a  great  ship  had  been  seen  on  their 
coast.  It  might  be  some  English  trader,  or  it 
might  be  a  French  ship  of  war,  come  to  dispossess 
the  colonists,  just  as  the  English  had  driven  the 
French,  at  an  earlier  time,  from  their  northern  set- 
tlements. 

Still,  even  if  'twere  a  Frenchman,  Ned  argued, 
men  must  eat,  and  must  kill  their  food  ere  they 
could  eat  it,  so,  at  the  last,  his  master  said  he  might 
go  fowling,  and  even,  if  he  did  not  roam  too  far, 
take  Miles  with  him. 

Early  next  morning  the  two  hunters  set  out  in 


The  Bearer  of  Tidings  305 

lively  spirits,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  woods 
were  sombre  and  the  sky  rough  with  clouds  that 
looked,  should  they  thrust  a  hand  deep  into  them, 
as  if  they  would  strike  something  hard  and  cold. 
Already  there  had  been  bitter  frosts,  and  the  thick 
fallen  leaves,  on  the  northward  trail,  rustled  crisply 
beneath  the  tread  of  the  fowlers.  Ned  wore  his 
red  cap,  which  blazed  out  bravely  under  the  dull 
trees,  and  his  buff-jacket,  too,  which  gave  him  the 
martial  look  he  liked.  Miles  had  no  such  warlike 
equipments,  but  Ned  generously  suffered  him  to 
carry  the  fowling  piece,  so  he  felt  quite  like  a  sol- 
dier. "  I  do  but  wish  the  French  would  come 
upon  us  now,"  he  panted  boastfully,  as  he  shoul- 
dered the  gun. 

"  There's  small  danger  you'll  find  a  Frenchman, 
unless  you  cross  the  water  to  seek  him,"  Ned  an- 
swered. "  I'll  do  it,  so  soon  as  my  time's  out.  Go 
into  Bohemia  and  fight —  "  There  he  turned  off 
into  discourse  on  the  joys  of  a  life  where  a  man 
never  fetched  and  carried,  but  handled  a  sword 
like  a  gentleman,  which  lasted  them  for  a  mile  along 
the  bare  trail. 

By  then  they  came  from  among  the  leafless  trees 
of  the  level  land  to  a  thick  piny  growth  at  the  base 
of  a  tall  hill,  that  blocked  off  sight  of  the  ocean. 
Ned  was  for  climbing  it  out  of  hand,  for,  on  the 
other  side,  by  the  shore,  he  thought  to  find  the  wild 


306  Soldier  Rigdale 

fowl,  so  up  he  scrambled,  quite  nimbly,  since  he 
had  long  legs  and  tramped  unburdened,  while  Miles 
toiled  after  with  the  fowling  piece.  A  mighty  steep 
hill,  where  the  pine  needles  lay  slippery,  so  Miles 
stumbled  and  near  fell,  and,  when  he  came  at  last  to 
the  little  barren  stretch  of  the  summit,  where  the 
lowering  sky  seemed  to  bend  down  to  him,  he 
could  only  drop  flat  and  lie  panting. 

Ned  cast  himself  down  beside  him,  although  he 
did  not  seem  weary,  and,  half  smiling  at  Miles's 
breathlessness,  let  his  eyes  at  last  turn  seaward. 
Lying  back,  Miles,  too,  looked  out  upon  the  gray 
water,  beneath  the  hill,  that  far  away  to  eastward 
merged  into  the  gray  sky,  and  then  a  sudden  ex- 
clamation made  him  glance  at  his  companion. 

Ned  was  sitting  erect  with  his  hand  shading  his 
eyes,  and  the  lines  of  his  face  were  sharpened  with  a 
sudden  tenseness.  "  What  d'ye  see  ?  "  Miles  began 
carelessly,  but  the  other,  springing  to  his  feet,  spoke 
to  him  in  a  curt  tone:  "Jump  you  up,  Miles. 
Look  yonder,  if  you  see  aught  in  the  offing." 

Ned's  hands  turned  Miles's  head  eastward,  but, 
though  the  boy  yielded  himself  obediently  and 
gazed  whither  he  was  told,  he  saw  only  dull  water 
and  brooding  sky.  Yet  he  was  beginning  to  guess 
the  meaning  of  it  all,  and,  with  the  heart  fluttering 
into  his  throat,  he  cried,  "  Ned,  sure,  you  do  not 
think— -that  French  ship  —  " 


The  Bearer  of  Tidings  307 

But  Lister,  wheeling  about,  had  reached  in  two 
strides  a  tall  pine  tree  that  spired  from  the  summit 
of  the  hill,  and,  grasping  its  lower  branches,  swung 
himself  upward  from  bough  to  bough.  His  cap 
showed  very  red  against  the  green  of  the  pine 
needles,  and  Miles  watched  it  go  bobbing  toward 
the  tree  top,  with  a  mind  so  suddenly  dulled  that 
he  could  think  of  nothing  else,  till  at  last  the  young 
man,  holding  fast  by  one  arm,  swayed  at  the  top- 
most point  of  the  pine  tree. 

A  long  minute  Ned  clung  there,  staring  seaward 
with  his  face  sober,  then  headlong  slipped  and 
scrambled  from  the  tree.  "  It's  a  sail,  true  enough," 
he  cried,  and,  as  the  words  left  his  lips,  came  to  the 
ground  with  a  crashing  fall  that  made  the  branches 
sway. 

Before  Miles  could  reach  his  side,  Ned  sprang 
to  his  feet,  stood  a  moment,  took  a  single  step,  and 
then  toppled  over  again  across  the  roots  of  the  pine, 
with  his  face  working  in  a  manner  that  frightened 
his  companion.  "  Are  you  hurt  ?  What  is  it,  Ned?  " 
he  cried. 

"  Naught  but  my  ankle,"  groaned  Lister,  strug- 
gling to  a  sitting  posture.  "  I've  wrenched  the 
cursed  thing.  Tut,  tut,  tut!  Don't  waste  time 
here  by  me.  Run  to  Plymouth.  Tell  them  the 
ship's  in  sight." 

"  The  Frenchman  ?  "  gasped  Miles. 


308  Soldier  Rigdale 

"  How  can  I  tell,  when  'tis  four  league  off  shore  ? " 
snapped  Ned.  "  'Tis  a  ship,  and  that's  enough. 
Run  along  with  you,  briskly  !  "  Then,  spite  of  the 
pain,  there  came  a  sort  of  softening  to  his  face. 
"  You're  not  afeard  to  go  back  along  the  trail  alone, 
Miley?" 

"  I've  been  in  woods  before  now,"  cried  the 
boy,  indignantly.  "But  —  but  if  I  go,  what  will 
you  do  ? " 

"  Sit  here  and  take  tobacco,"  Ned  answered,  in 
his  swaggering  tone,  and,  with  his  hand  a  little 
unsteady,  drew  his  pipe  from  his  pocket.  "  Give 
me  the  fowling  piece  near  to  me,  and  now  run  your 
briskest,  d'ye  hear  ?  Off  with  you,  heavy-heels, 
unless  you  be  afraid!" 

The  taunt  more  than  all  else  sent  Miles  plunging 
headlong  down  the  hill.  The  needles  slipped  be- 
neath his  shoes,  and  his  knees  jarred  with  the  steep- 
ness of  the  descent.  Once  he  tripped,  and,  falling, 
rolled  over  and  over,  and  rose  up  in  fear  lest  he  had 
hurt  himself  like  Ned.  But  he  could  run  well 
enough,  he  found,  as  he  stumbled  into  the  more 
level  part  of  the  trail.  His  briskest,  and  warn  the 
Plymouth  folk,  Ned  bade,  and  suddenly  Miles's 
heart  gave  a  great  leap  that  he  was  to  do  so  soldierly 
a  part  in  the  Captain's  sight.  He  drew  a  big  breath, 
and,  bending  his  head,  dashed  down  the  trail. 

The  dry  twigs  snapped  beneath  his  feet ;  a  fright- 


"The  breath  came  gripingly  in  his  throat." 


The  Bearer  of  Tidings  309 

ened  quail,  with  a  startling  whir,  flew  across  his 
path  ;  the  branches,  as  he  rushed  by  them,  wavered 
and  shook.  Below  him  the  ground  reeled  and  the 
sky  above  was  shot  with  black ;  the  breath  came 
gripingly  in  his  throat,  and  a  pain  like  that  of  a 
piercing  iron  bored  into  his  side. 

Downhill,  where  the  ground  seemed  not  to  be 
beneath  him,  and  in  the  hollow  splashed  a  brook. 
He  felt  the  chill  of  the  water  over  his  ankle  as  he 
thrust  his  foot  into  it,  and,  stopping  a  moment, 
he  plunged  his  head,  that  ached  to  bursting,  into 
the  icy  ripples,  then,  gasping,  staggered  up  the 
opposite  slope. 

He  was  running  heavily  now,  so  it  scarcely  could 
be  called  running,  swaying  from  side  to  side  of  the 
trail,  but  more  than  half,  than  three  quarters,  of  the 
way  was  out.  The  trees  dwindled  about  him  ;  yon- 
der were  cleared  fields  ;  yonder  the  smoke  rose  from 
cottage  chimneys.  Now  the  stubble  of  corn  was 
stiff  beneath  his  feet ;  now  he  crashed  through  a 
little  patch  of  brambles ;  and  at  last,  thrusting  his 
hands  gropingly  before  him,  he  pitched  up  against 
the  door  of  Captain  Standish's  cottage.  "  Open  !  " 
he  called,  but  his  voice  came  in  a  mere  whisper. 

Within,  they  heard  him,  however.  The  door  was 
flung  open ;  he  fell  against  Master  Winslow ;  and 
yonder  by  the  table  he  had  sight  of  the  Governor 
and  the  Elder  and  Master  Hopkins  and  the  Cap- 


310  Soldier  Rigdale 

tain  himself,  starting  up  from  the  conference  he  had 
interrupted.  Miles  reeled  forward  a  step  or  two 
and  caught  Standish's  arm.  "  Captain  Standish," 
he  gasped,  "the  ship  —  the  French  —  we  saw  it 
from  the  hill  —  the  French  are  in  the  offing." 

Then  his  knees  gave  way  and  the  room  whirled 
round.  A  blackness  was  about  him  in  which  he 
heard  faintly  the  questions  and  re-questions  of 
the  men,  the  clatter  of  the  house-door,  a  calling 
in  the  street.  Then  thunderously,  subduing  all 
other  sound,  he  heard  the  crash  of  the  great  gun 
upon  the  Fort  Hill  that  called  home  from  labor  the 
men  who  should  defend  their  settlement. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 


THE    CAPTAIN  S     SOLDIER 


LYING  upon  his  own  bed,  whither  Master 
Hopkins  had  carried  him,  Miles  harked 
'  to  the  rattle  of  eager  drumsticks  in  the 
street,  the  hurried  rush  of  footsteps,  the  shrill  calls 
of  boys.  Nearer,  in  the  living  room,  he  could  hear 
Mistress  Hopkins's  frightened  tones,  and  the  clatter 
of  swords  as  Master  Hopkins  and  Dotey  armed 
themselves. 

Presently  heavy  footsteps  came  toward  him,  and 
Master  Hopkins,  with  his  buff-jacket  half  fastened, 
opened  the  door  of  the  chamber  to  question  him 
further  of  Ned.  "  He's  hurt,  and  he  made  me  to 
leave  him,"  panted  Miles.  "And  the  Frenchmen 
will  find  him,  and  can  you  not  send  some  one  to 
help  him,  sir  ?  " 

"  Unless  Edward  Lister's  neck  is  broke,  I'll  trust 
him  to  shift  for  himself  till  we  have  space  to  look  to 
him,"  Master  Hopkins  answered  with  a  grim  sort  of 
chuckle,  and  just  there  the  house-door  banged  open 
and  upon  it  Miles  heard  Giles's  eager  voice,  "Father, 
may  I  not  carry  Ned's  musket,  since  he  is  not  here? 

3" 


3 12  Soldier  Rigdale 

Bart  Allerton  has  one ;  the  Captain  himself  said  all 
who  could  fight  should  get  under  arms." 

Miles  struggled  up,  with  head  still  dizzy.  "  I 
can  fight  too,"  he  murmured,  but  the  older  folk, 
without  heeding  him,  tramped  forth  with  their 
weapons  and  left  him  to  Constance  and  her  step- 
mother. But  the  women  had  terrified  thoughts  to 
keep  them  busy,  so  busy  they  took  no  note  when 
presently  Miles,  quite  recovered  from  his  run,  slipped 
off  the  bed  and  darted  from  the  house. 

Out-of-doors  the  men  were  rallying  in  haste  to 
the  shore,  among  them  John  Alden,  whom  Miles 
hailed  shrilly  from  the  house-yard :  "  John  Alden, 
O  John  !  May  I  have  your  fowling  piece  to  fight 
with?  " 

"  Ay,  take  it,"  Alden  called,  without  looking 
round,  and  Miles,  forgetting  he  was  weary,  scudded 
his  fastest  up  the  hill. 

He  was  to  have  a  gun  and  fight,  even  if  it  was 
no  more  than  a  fowling  piece,  he  told  himself,  and, 
in  a  happy  flutter  that  set  at  naught  the  French- 
men, he  clambered  on  the  table  in  the  Captain's 
living  room  and  dragged  down  the  fowling  piece 
from  the  wall.  He  longed  to  take  also  the  rapier 
from  the  chimneypiece,  but  he  had  no  right,  so, 
contenting  himself  with  the  gun,  he  hurried  forth  to 
do  his  part. 

A  gray  day  and  a  strange  day ;    high  noon,  yet 


The  Captain's  Soldier  313 

not  dinner  time,  for  the  whole  order  of  life  was 
broken,  and  beyond  lay  —  no  one  knew  what.  But 
Miles  thought  on  the  fighting,  and,  with  his  pulses 
leaping,  clambered  to  the  gun  platform,  where  a 
squad  was  stationed,  and,  ready  as  the  best  of  them, 
gazed  out  upon  the  ocean.  There,  sure  enough, 
loomed  larger  and  larger  a  speck  of  white. 

Captain  Standish  had  gone  down  to  the  other 
men  on  the  bluff  by  the  landing,  so  presently  Miles 
ran  after  him.  He  carried  his  fowling  piece  over 
his  shoulder  valiantly,  and  he  stopped  at  the  Elder's 
cottage  to  call  to  Dolly  not  to  be  afraid,  and  he 
wondered  at  Mistress  Brewster's  alarmed  face. 

The  men  on  the  bluff,  too,  looked  grave  and  anx- 
ious, and  the  Captain's  voice  was  sharp  and  stern. 
But  the  boys  who  were  allowed  muskets,  albeit  their 
faces  were  decorously  sober,  looked  very  happy,  and 
handled  their  weapons  with  such  pride  that  Miles 
grew  ashamed  of  his  paltry  fowling  piece. 

"  You  might  let  me  have  the  musket  a  little  time, 
Giles,"  he  murmured  to  young  Hopkins,  who  stood 
beside  him  on  the  northern  slope  of  the  bluff,  where 
they  were  watching  the  horizon.  "  Surely,  I  could 
manage  it,  and  'tis  Ned's,  anyway,  and  he  is  my 
friend." 

Giles  preserved  an  elderly,  careworn  silence,  and 
puckered  his  brows  upon  the  ominous  east,  when 
suddenly    from    behind    them    shrilled    a   whistle. 


314  Soldier   Rigdale 

Miles  guessed  who  it  was  before  he  turned,  so, 
though  Giles  and  some  of  the  others  cried  out  in 
surprise,  he  thought  it  quite  a  matter  of  course  when 
he  saw  Ned  Lister  coming  across  the  fields  to  the 
bluff. 

Ned  walked  at  a  leisurely  limp,  with  his  fowling 
piece  over  his  shoulder,  and  his  cap  on  one  side ;  it 
was  not  till  he  came  nearer  that  Miles  saw,  too,  that 
his  clothes  were  muddied  and  stuck  with  briers  and 
leaves,  and  his  face  was  white  to  his  lips,  that  were 
set  in  a  hard  line.  "  Well,"  he  greeted  his  fellow- 
colonists  civilly,  "  did  you  think  I  meant  to  sit 
there  in  the  bushes  till  you  chose  to  come  seek 
me  ? " 

There  he  staggered  a  little,  so  Dotey  caught  hold 
of  him,  and  just  then  Standish,  striding  through  the 
thin  ranks  of  his  company,  came  up.  "  How  did 
you  get  hither,  Lister  ?  "  he  asked,  with  whatever 
surprise  may  have  been  his  well  in  check. 

"  I  walked,"  Ned  answered,  and  then,  as  he  saw 
the  Captain's  eyes  upon  his  muddied  jacket,  he 
began  to  laugh  oddly.  "  That  is,  sir,  sometimes  I 
rolled  and  otherwhiles  I  crawled.  For  I  did  not 
wish  to  be  gulled  of  the  fight.  And  —  Giles  Hop- 
kins, you  thief!  give  me  my  musket." 

<c  My  father  said  I  might  —  "  Giles  began,  unruly 
for  once,  but  there  a  sudden  sound  of  cheering  on 
the  hilltop  cut  short  the  dispute.     A  man  —  Gilbert 


The  Captain's  Soldier  315 

Winslow,  they  saw  —  came  running  break-neck 
down  the  steep  street,  and,  so  far  as  he  could  be 
heard,  called  to  them,  "English,  an  English  ship ! " 
and  then  those  on  the  bluff,  too,  took  up  the 
cheering. 

It  was  the  sailor  Trevor,  who,  from  the  Fort  Hill, 
had  watched  the  ship  grow  larger  till  he  vowed  that 
he  could  make  out  that  she  was  rigged  in  the  Eng- 
lish fashion.  Still  the  Captain  held  his  force  to- 
gether on  the  bluff  till  the  stranger's  nationality 
should  be  assured  past  doubt,  and,  meantime,  he 
bade  Dotey  and  Giles  help  Ned  Lister  to  the  house. 
"And  see  that  he  stays  there,"  the  Captain  added 
dryly. 

So  Ned,  turned  limp  and  unresisting  of  a  sudden, 
staggered  away  between  the  two,  and  Miles,  though 
he  would  fain  have  watched  till  the  ship  should  loom 
up  round  the  beach  point,  thought  friendship  re- 
quired that  he  should  follow  after  with  the  musket. 

When  he  returned  to  the  landing  place,  many 
minutes  later,  there  was  no  longer  a  doubt  or  a 
fear,  for  the  flag  of  England  fluttered  from  the 
vessel's  mast.  The  ship  Fortune,  with  the  rein- 
forcements for  the  colony,  that  was  not  expected  for 
a  month  more,  was  casting  anchor  in  Plymouth 
Harbor. 

That  afternoon  seemed  all  a  hazy  dream.  With 
a  feeling  that  he  must  be  some  one  else,   Miles 


3 16  Soldier  Rigdale 

watched  the  men  make  ready  the  shallop,  saw  it  go 
dipping  across  the  gray  harbor,  and  lie  to  beside  the 
great  ship.  He  saw  the  first  boatload  of  the  new- 
comers pull  in  to  the  landing  rock,  and  he  gazed 
shyly  and  yet  gladly  at  the  faces  of  the  men  and 
women  who  were  to  be  his  townsfolk.  Elder 
Brewster's  grown  up  son  came  with  them,  and  there 
were  many  other  young  men,  and  a  few  older,  and 
several  women,  but  there  were  very  few  children 
among  them. 

At  last,  however,  Miles  and  Jack  found  among 
the  newcomers  a  boy  but  little  older  than  them- 
selves, so  at  once  they  made  up  to  him  and  found 
that  his  name  was  Thomas  Cushman.  And  because 
he  had  looked  on  ships  and  sea  till  he  was  weary  of 
them,  they  led  him  away  from  the  harbor,  and  showed 
him  the  spring  and  the  Fort  Hill,  and  laughed  at  him 
because  he  was  so  certain  he  should  see  an  Indian  at 
each  turning,  and  Miles  bragged  to  him  mightily  of 
his  experiences  among  the  savages  of  the  Cape. 

It  was  near  dusk  when  they  came  down  again 
through  the  village,  where  the  last  boatload  from 
the  ship  had  just  landed.  The  street  seemed  fairly 
thronged  with  folk,  and  out  to  sea  a  light  sparkled 
on  the  quarter-deck  of  the  Fortune,  just  as  it  used 
to  shine  upon  the  Mayflower. 

Feeling  secure  and  happy,  Miles  bade  his  new 
friend  Thomas  good  night,  and  walked  home  to  his 


The  Captain's  Soldier  317 

supper.  "  Bring  firewood ;  we've  many  people  to 
eat  with  us  to-night,"  Constance  called  to  him  from 
the  doorway,  so  he  trudged  on  to  the  woodpile, 
where  he  picked  out  a  good  armful  of  the  piny  logs, 
to  make  a  brave  blaze  for  the  friends  who  had  come 
from  England. 

His  face,  as  he  worked,  was  toward  the  west, 
where  showed  a  smear  of  red,  which  the  sun,  strug- 
gling forth  just  ere  his  setting,  had  left  behind. 
Miles  gazed  on  the  gay  fleck,  that  yet  was  lonely  in 
the  wide  sky,  till  a  step  near  at  hand  startled  him, 
and,  turning,  he  faced  Master  Hopkins. 

"  Lay  aside  that  wood,  Miles  ;  I  have  to  speak 
with  you,"  his  guardian  greeted  him ;  and  Miles 
dropped  the  wood  and  wondered  what  he  had  done 
wrong.  "  Pray  you,  sir,  John  Alden  told  me  I 
might  take  that  fowling  piece,"  he  offered  his 
excuses. 

"  Am  I  always  so  severe  that  you  look  for  naught 
but  chiding  from  me,  Miles  ?  "  Master  Hopkins 
said  sternly,  yet  with  something  half  wistful  in  his 
tone.  "  I  would  but  say  to  you  that  Captain 
Standish  has  long  urged  me  to  let  you  be  one  of 
his  household,  and  I  have  as  long  withstood  him. 
For  all  he  is  a  brave  gentleman,  he  is  not  of  the 
faith  in  which  your  father  lived.  But  he  has  urged 
me  strongly  this  day,  and  you,  too,  Miles,  you  bore 
yourself  fairly  this  morning ;  you  have  tried  to  bear 


3 1 8  Soldier  Rigdalc 

yourself  well  these  last  weeks,  I  can  see.  'Tis  pos- 
sible that  you  will  not  suffer  Miles  Standish  to  spoil 
you  with  lax  discipline,  and  in  matters  of  faith  you 
cannot  go  very  far  astray  in  this  colony.  So  I  think, 
it  safe  now  to  leave  this  matter  to  your  own  decision. 
You  may  stay  in  my  house,  or  go  unto  the  Captain." 

Miles  breathed  quickly  and  cracked  a  bit  of  bark 
between  his  fingers.  "  Am  I  to  decide  now,  sir  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"Yes,  now.  There  is  a  kinsman  of  Mistress 
Hopkins's  come  on  the  Fortune  who  will  take  your 
place  in  my  household  if  you  go.  But  you  need 
not  go  for  that.  As  long  as  I  have  a  house,  there 
is  a  place  for  you  therein,  if  you  elect  to  stay." 

It  seemed  an  easy  thing  to  say,  he  knew  what  he 
desired,  yet  when  Master  Hopkins  stood  looking 
gravely  down  at  him  and  waiting  for  his  answer, 
Miles  found  it  hard  to  give.  "I  —  I  —  You've 
been  good  to  me,  after  all,  sir,"  he  faltered.  "I'm 
sorry  I've  vexed  you  so  many  times.     I  —  " 

"  In  short,  you  wish  to  go  to  the  Captain," 
Master  Hopkins  interrupted.  "Very  well,  Miles 
Rigdale.     Be  it  as  you  wish." 

Then  he  walked  away,  and  Miles,  gathering  up 
his  armful  of  wood  for  the  last  time,  wondered  that, 
now  he  had  his  desire,  he  felt  a  half  sorrow  that  it 
was  granted  him. 

But  when  he  entered  the  house,  different  thoughts 


The  Captain's  Soldier  319 

came  to  him.  All  was  stir  and  bustle  within,  for 
Mistress  Hopkins  was  cooking  supper  for  the  men 
with  sea-appetites,  who  were  to  eat  there  that  night, 
and  suddenly  Miles  felt  it  quite  a  part  of  the  day's 
upheaval  that  he  should  leave  his  old  home.  All 
afire  with  the  pleasure  of  it,  he  went  into  the  cham- 
ber, where  he  tied  up  his  few  clothes  in  his  cloak. 

Ned  Lister,  who  was  stretched  upon  his  bed, 
pulled  himself  up  on  his  elbow  to  watch  him.  "So 
you're  going  to  live  with  the  Captain,  Miley,"  he 
repeated  the  boy's  news.  "  Well,  it's  far  better  that 
you  should ;  there'll  be  no  one  in  his  house  to  lead 
you  into  mischief."  Ned's  face  grew  serious  and  he 
was  silent  a  moment,  then  broke  out,  "  On  my  soul, 
I  have  liked  you,  lad,  and  I  shall  miss  you." 

"  I  shall  see  you  every  day,"  Miles  answered,  set- 
ting himself  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed. 

"Hm!"  Lister  retorted.  "Your  Captain  doesn't 
like  me,  Miles.  Though  he  did  trouble  himself  to 
see  how  I  was  faring,  when  he  came  to  speak  with 
Hopkins  this  afternoon ;  after  all,  he's  a  good  fel- 
low, though  I've  no  liking  for  the  punishments  he 
gives.  But  that'll  change  now.  There's  a  pack  of 
jolly  good  fellows  come  in  the  Fortune,  they  say,  will 
keep  him  busy.  Plague  of  this  ankle  !  I  might  'a' 
gone  out  and  made  friends  with  them,  and  I'm  sick 
to  have  speech  again  with  an  ungodly  rascal  like 
myself/' 


32o  Soldier  Rigdalc 

Just  there  Constance  pushed  open  the  door  and 
came  in  to  bring  Ned  his  supper,  so  Miles  gathered 
up  his  bundle  to  go  forth.  But  Constance  had  to 
kiss  him  good-bye,  right  before  Ned,  and  tell  him 
to  come  back  often.  "  I  will,"  Miles  promised 
soberly.  "You've  been  good  to  me,  Constance, 
and  —  and  if 'twill  help  you,  I'll  come  tend  Damaris 
—  once  in  a  while." 

"  No,  you  shan't,  dear,  ever  again,"  Constance 
said,  laughing,  and  pushed  him  out  of  the  room. 

He  took  the  Bible  that  had  been  his  father's 
from  the  chimneypiece,  and,  while  Mistress  Hop- 
kins was  busy  talking  to  her  kinsman,  a  grave  young 
man  who  found  no  opportunity  to  answer  her, 
thought  to  slip  quietly  out  of  the  house.  But 
Elizabeth  Hopkins  spied  him.  "  Where  are  your 
manners,  child,  that  you  cannot  say  l  God  be  wi' 
you  '  ?  "  she  assailed  him.  "  After  what  I've  borne 
from  your  carelessness,  Miles,  and  I'm  sure  your 
clothes  never  will  be  tidily  mended  now,  and  — " 

But  there  Miles  got  the  door  open  and  scampered 
away.  Trug  came  leaping  at  his  heels,  and,  fast  as 
if  Mistress  Hopkins  were  likely  to  pursue  him,  he 
ran  till  he  reached  the  Captain's  very  dooryard,  and 
was  quite  breathless  when  he  opened  the  door. 

Inside,  the  candles  were  lit,  the  meat  was  on  the 
table,  and  the  Captain  and  Alden  and  four  of  the 
newcomers  were  making  their  supper  and   talking 


The  Captain's  Soldier  321 

heartily  the  while.  At  the  noise  of  the  opening 
door  they  all  faced  about,  and  Miles  felt  shy  and 
abashed.  "  If  it  like  you,  Captain  Standish,"  he 
stammered,  "  Master  Hopkins  said  I  could  come, 
so  I  came." 

"And  you  are  right  welcome,  Miles,"  Standish 
said  quickly.  "  We  looked  for  you  to-night.  Put 
down  your  bundle  and  come  to  the  table.  Let 
your  dog  come  in,  too." 

Miles  slipped  into  a  cranny  on  the  form  between 
Alden  and  a  black-haired  young  man  named  De  la 
Noye.  It  was  a  roast  duck  they  had  for  supper, 
and  the  men  fed  Trug  right  at  table,  and  they  talked 
a  deal,  of  Indians  and  of  hunting  and  of  planting, 
and  then,  as  the  Captain  and  Alden  guided  the  con- 
versation, of  the  Parliament  and  of  the  Spanish  in- 
fluence and  the  war  in  the  Palatinate,  till,  spite  of 
the  excitement  of  the  evening,  Miles's  head  nodded, 
and  at  heart  he  was  glad  when  at  length,  long  after 
the  sober  bedtime  hour  of  Plymouth,  the  men 
cleared  the  table  hastily  and  went  to  their  rest. 

The  newcomers  were  bidden  lie  that  night  in  the 
bedroom,  since  two  of  them  still  were  weak  with  sea- 
sickness, but  Alden  and  the  Captain  were  to  sleep 
in  the  living  room,  so  Miles  silently  elected  to  stay 
with  them,  and  he  was  glad  when  the  chamber  door 
closed  behind  the  strangers. 

"  So  you've  a  mind  to  share  the  floor  with  us, 


322  Soldier  Rigdale 

Miles  ?  "  the  Captain  asked,  as  he  threw  off  his 
doublet. 

"  'Tis  like  a  soldier  to  sleep  where  'tis  hard," 
Miles  confessed  shyly. 

Standish  smiled  a  little.  "  We'll  surely  make  a 
fighting  man  of  you,  Miles,  or  you'll  make  one  of 
yourself.  'Twas  a  pretty  race  you  ran  alone  this 
morning,  your  friend  Lister  told  me." 

"  Lister  made  a  stout  march  of  it,  too,"  put  in 
Alden,  who  had  already  rolled  himself  in  his  blanket 
and  settled  down  on  the  floor. 

"  There's  more  mettle  in  that  rapscallion  than 
I  judged,"  Standish  answered  thoughtfully,  and 
then  :  "  Lie  you  down,  Miles.  Eh  ?  No  blanket  ? 
Here,  take  my  cloak ;  'tis  ample  enough  for  you." 

Indeed,  it  was,  and  very  brave  and  martial,  too. 
Miles  curled  himself  up  in  it,  and  liked  the  manly 
hardness  of  the  floor  beneath  his  shoulders.  He 
closed  his  eyes  and  half  dozed,  then,  hearing  Alden's 
voice,  roused  up  a  little. 

"  Captain,"  the  young  man  was  speaking  softly, 
"  there's  not  an  ounce  of  extra  provisions  in  the 
Fortune." 

From  the  neighboring  corner  where  Standish  had 
stretched  himself  came  a  non-committal  "  Urn." 

"  And  half  these  young  fellows  are  equipped  with 
nothing  but  the  clothes  they  stand  in  ;  they  gambled 
away  their  very  cloaks,  when  the  ship  touched  at 


The  Captain's  Soldier  323 

Plymouth  in  Devonshire."  There  was  silence  in 
the  living  room  for  a  time,  before  Alden  resumed, 
"  We  had  enough  to  do  in  the  colony  before,  sir  ; 
now  what  shall  we  do  with  these  ?  " 

"  Why,  some  we'll  set  to  ploughing  and  some  we'll 
set  to  fight  the  Indians,"  said  Standish.  "And 
those  that  will  neither  plough  nor  fight,  we'll  pack 
home  to  England.     We've  no  use  for  idlers  here." 

Then  again  there  was  silence  in  the  living  room, 
and  the  embers  in  the  fireplace  gleamed  red,  and 
once,  leaping  into  flame,  set  black  shadows  flutter- 
ing on  the  wall.  "We've  no  use  for  idlers,"  Miles 
repeated  to  himself.  "  But  I'll  work  as  mother 
would  wish  me  to,  now  I  am  in  the  Captain's 
house." 

He  drew  the  Captain's  cloak  closer  about  him, 
and  thought  to  amuse  himself  with  pretending  he 
was  a  true  soldier,  like  the  Captain,  sleeping  in  his 
military  cloak  out  under  the  stars,  but  the  reality 
pleased  him  better  than  the  fancy.  He  lay  with  his 
eyes  wide  open,  smiling  at  the  embers.  "  The  Cap- 
tain's house,"  he  repeated.  "And  I  shall  stay  here 
always." 


••' 


■U&2  ^^^^^&^^^^^-^^k^ 


